


Always Cloudy

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Complete, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU exploring the relationship between Anders (Andrew) and Theron Mahariel (Theodore Murphy)<br/><img/><br/><a href="http://moodymarshmallow.tumblr.com/post/29274836322/so-for-anyone-who-hasnt-been-reading-always">Theodore and Andrew</a>, by <a href="http://frikadeller.tumblr.com">Frikadeller</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Like listening to old standards on tinny radios, Portland nights were familiar. They were chilly wind and bright street lamps, the tap of soles on brick pathways and dark shop front windows full of trinkets and books, with handwritten chalk signs proclaiming things like  _Organic Microbrews_  and  _Fair Trade Coffee_. It was just past midnight, and the moon was a fingernail crescent, hanging high, offering no light to any souls traveling Oregon's streets this late.

Not that there were many. The bars and strip clubs were still open, making this hour one of in-betweens, with the night crowd still going strong while the responsible, morning people had been in bed since dusk. The buses would only be running for another hour, and by the time the doors of every local pub was open, taxi cabs would be lining the streets, ready to ferry drunken, boisterous Portlanders back to quaint apartments and townhouses to rest up for the next night of revelry.   
  
This sidewalk was particularly empty, playing host only to one relatively small man in a large hooded sweatshirt, the yellow glow of the street lights dancing across his dark copper hair when he passed beneath them. Theodore Murphy walked at a fast clip, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, heading away from the neon sign of his preferred bar towards the nearest bus station, head down, eyes trained on the sidewalk, stopping only when he heard the shouting from the alleyway.   
  
Instinctively, he closed his hand around his cell phone without removing it from his pocket. It was two men shouting, from what he could tell, although their voices were unclear. He stopped and tilted his head to the side, listening, thinking that this sounded a little more drastic than a bar brawl or an argument. As the volume began to increase, he pulled out the phone and slid his finger across the screen to wake it up before jabbing the “Emergency” icon on the home screen.

By the time he told the dispatcher where he was and what was going on, the two men had spilled from the alleyway, and it was clear that whatever was going on was entirely one sided. A tall, blond man in light blue scrubs was holding his arms against his face, backing away from his attacker. Theodore shoved the phone back into his pocket, wincing when the taller man tripped over the curb and stumbled, falling onto his side in the street. His attacker, screaming incoherently about something the man was supposed to have given him, began kicking him in the ribs as the man in scrubs curled into a fetal position.   
  
He wasn’t sure what possessed him, or how he found the loose brick in the sidewalk, but before he knew what he was doing, he was throwing that brick with all the skill and force he remembered from his college baseball years, and watching as it from outside of himself when it made contact with the attacker’s head. The man crumpled to his knees, clutching the back of his head, giving the blond enough time to scramble to his feet.   
  
He didn’t stay down though, and when he got to his feet his attention was focused solely on Theodore. The blond managed to grab the man by an arm to try and stop him, but he wrenched away, and the last thing Theodore remembered was being tackled to the ground, and the sick crunching sound when he landed on his left arm.   
  
Theodore woke to the sound of sirens. There was pain, but it seemed hazy, at a distance, like he couldn’t reach it if he tried. He opened his eyes to see the blond in scrubs hovering over him. Theodore smiled; despite the black eye he was actually sort of handsome, with a fine, aquiline nose and a couple days growth of stubble. Then there was his hair; it wasn’t blond, it was gold, and it glowed around the edges. He wanted to touch it.   
  
“Oh good, you’re back with me,” said the blond, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Try not to move; there’s an ambulance on the way. Can you tell me your name?”   
  
“Theodore Murphy.” He found that not moving required a lot of effort, especially now that the source of the pain was slowly becoming apparent. He tilted his head slightly, glancing at his left arm, regarding the odd angle with a bit of curiosity, his head feeling too muddy for anything else.   
  
“It seems I owe you one, Theodore. Bastard would have broken my ribs if you didn’t stop him. I’m Andrew, by the way, and I’d shake your hand, but you really ought to stay still until the ambulance gets here.”   
  
Andrew had a good voice, Theodore decided, blinking slowly at the second mention of an ambulance. “Am I hurt?” He asked, furrowing his brows at the man above him, thinking that he did ache just a little, but he could probably walk it off if Andrew let him stand up.   
  
“I’m afraid so,” Andrew said with a gentle smile. “I think you’ve broken your arm, which is why it’s so important that you don’t move.” His hand floated into Theodore’s field of vision. “How many fingers am I holding up?”   
  
“Two. Are you a doctor?”   
  
“A nurse, actually. Hang on for just a minute.” Theodore squinted his eyes shut when Andrew stood, light from the streetlamp above flooding over him painfully. He decided, somewhat hazily, that turning his head probably didn’t count as “moving” and glanced to his right side, where he could see a few sets of legs, one in blue scrubs and white shoes, two in black pants and shiny, black shoes. Then they went blurry, and he couldn’t figure out how many people were standing there. Was it three, or was it six?

He was tired, more tired than he could remember being in a long time. He started thinking about how he wished that he could bottle this feeling for the next time it was three in the morning and he hadn’t slept for two days. It would have come in so handy in college; he could have been awake for early classes, and rested for exams. Then, he could have gotten a better degree, one that was in something more useful than graphic design, and maybe he’d still be living in L.A. with Tom--  
  
Someone appeared in his line of sight again, but this time it wasn’t Andrew. Theodore stared at him, confused, as he asked questions that didn’t make a lot of sense, and said words like  _concussion_  and  _nightstick fracture_. He protested when the man, and a few others, picked him up onto a gurney and shuffled him into the ambulance, but felt sort of relieved when Andrew climbed in and sat down on what looked like a bench seat against the side of the van.

He came to his senses when they reached the hospital, only to feel his head pound for hours as he sat in a waiting room under humming fluorescent lights, filling out form after form, writing Thomas’ name on the line meant for emergency contacts and scribbling it out in frustration. It had been three years, this wasn’t a mistake he was supposed to be making. He wrote  _nobody_  on the next form, and it was close enough to the truth anyway.   
  
By the time he was seen, had his left arm bandaged tightly in a plaster cast, and was signing his release form, it was early morning, the first rays of light turning the sky lavender and orange. Those were good colors, and he thought that maybe when his arm was healed up, he’d try mixing a glaze in that exact shade of orange.   
  
“Hey, Theodore!”

As soon as he stepped out of the hospital, Andrew jogged up next to him, smelling vaguely like cigarette smoke and offering him a paper cup. “I thought I’d offer you a cup of coffee, at least,” Andrew said with a smile, looking much taller and scruffier than Theodore remembered, though his initial assessment of  _handsome_  seemed to still fit. The morning sun was doing amazing things to his hair.

“Thanks, but, I don’t really want the caffeine right now.” Theodore shrugged, sounding apologetic as Andrew lowered the proffered cup.   
  
“Well, I’ve gotta thank you somehow,” Andrew said, putting the cup to his lips instead and taking a sip. “I might have come away from that with something worse than a black eye if you weren’t there, and then you went and got all busted up on my account.”   
  
“What was that all about, anyway?” Theodore pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. The busses would be running, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to try and deal with a city bus, even at five-thirty in the morning, with his arm up in a sling. He fiddled with the sling, annoyed by it already.   
  
Andrew scoffed, rolling his eyes as he took another long drink from the cup that was meant for Theodore. “He’s a drug addict. We have a strict policy about people who come in obviously looking to get high, especially when we know they’ve done this before, and this was the third time he’d been in this week. I told him I wasn’t prescribing anything for him and had security escort him out. I guess he saw that as some big personal offense, because he waited until my shift ended and followed me.”   
  
Andrew had a mobile, expressive face, and Theodore watched him speak quietly, thinking about how the orange light played off of his amber eyes, and nodding for him to continue.   
  
“I still can’t believe you threw a brick at him,” Andrew said, grinning. “That’s like some heroic shit right there. Most people would have just walked by.” Theodore felt his cheeks color a bit, and dropped his gaze, looking down at his cast. “Hey, can I buy you a beer sometime, maybe dinner? You know, as a thank you.”   
  
“You don’t have to do that.”   
  
“I know. I’d like to. You broke an arm for me, the least I could do is get you a beer.” That smile was infectious. “The most I could do, well...that’s up to you now, isn’t it?”   
  
The corner of Theodore’s mouth curled slightly. “Dinner, huh?”   
  
“Mm-hmm. I know at least fifty good places, and that’s just downtown.” Andrew tossed the cup in recycle bin, slipping one hand into the pocket of his scrubs and pulling out a sharpie. “Can I sign your cast?” He waited as Theodore slid the sling back and lifted it a bit, though it was still necessary for Andrew to bend down to sign. He scrawled his name, then, after glancing up at Theodore with a grin, added his phone number. “Give me a call if you decide to take me up on that offer. I have to go make an official report with my supervisor, but my phone’s always on.”   
  
Andrew stuffed the pen back into his pocket and took a few steps backwards, giving Theodore a smile and a wave, before turning and walking through the automatic doors and disappearing into the hospital.   
  
Theodore glanced down at the cast, and then out at the orange horizon, thinking about how surreal it was that after three years in Portland, it took a chance encounter, a broken arm, and a refusal of a cup of coffee for him to get someone’s number.   
  
Not that he’d be brave enough to call, but, if he was brave enough to throw a brick...maybe he could pick up a phone and dial ten numbers...


	2. Chapter 2

As it happened, it was a lot easier to get up the courage to call someone when their numbers were literally written on you. It still took Theodore four days; four days of grumbling about that cast, four days of putting it in a plastic bag and letting it dangle outside of the tub while he took a bath, and four days of wondering how strange it would be to actually meet up for that date without having had anyone else sign that stupid, annoying cast, to actually work up the nerve to call.

He got Andrew’s voicemail, which was somehow worse than having him answer. He stammered, tripping over his words, but at least managing to tell the cheerful, recorded version of Andrew’s voice who he was, and that yes, he would, perhaps, like to go out for dinner. He left his number too, then cursed himself for the stupidity of rattling it off like that when every cell phone in the world came with some sort of caller identification. But it was done, and it was appropriate that he sounded like he didn't know how to talk on the phone, it wasn’t like he did it very often.

There wasn’t much he could do after that other than wait. With only one arm, it was impossible to work on his most recent projects, and even if all of his clients had been very understanding about the delay in getting their websites renovated, he was restless and frustrated. Mundane tasks were too difficult. Trying to wash his hair one-handed wore him out, and made him wonder if he should have just gotten rid of it when he moved to Portland, called it another casualty of his life with Thomas and donated it to one of those charities that makes wigs for kids with cancer. It was well past the middle of his back now, still dark copper, still making hair stylists doubt the color was natural, and still making people call him “miss.” But he liked it, so he kept it, feeling a bit smug at the glances, jealous or confused, that he got when he went out in public with it down or done up nicely.

Later that day, when he was sitting in his kitchen with a cup of coffee, watching the sun setting out the sliding glass door, Andrew called back, asking if he was free to meet up for beer and burgers at a local place in an hour. Theodore considered turning him down, telling him he was busy tonight, and maybe tomorrow or next week would work better, but instead he told him that was fine, and he’d meet him there.

Theodore arrived before Andrew, even after struggling with trying to find something date appropriate, warm enough for a Portland night, and either big enough or short enough to fit around his cast. He ended up in the only band t-shirt he had, some old black thing advertising a tour he hadn’t even gone to, feeling smaller and younger than he was, standing outside the burger joint with his good hand stuffed into his pocket, waiting on Andrew. When he did show up, it was in his scrubs and a brown leather jacket, looking charmingly unkempt and apologizing for being late.

“I had no idea your hair was that long,” Andrew said as they waited just inside the door, crammed in with a few sets of couples as harried wait-staff jogged past them, reassuring that they’d be seated in just one moment. “Is that difficult to take care of? I’ve thought of growing mine out more, but the hospital has this asinine policy on hair length for men. They barely let me get away with this.” He reached up and toyed with his short ponytail, apologizing to a woman in a short black dress when he inadvertently elbowed her in the shoulder.

“I’m used to it.” Theodore shifted to the side as one of the wait-staff squeezed past him, beckoning a couple that had been sitting in the waiting room when they walked in. “It’s been this way for a while.” 

“It’s beautiful. I like it,” Andrew said, looking as if that had been a perfectly normal thing to say. No less normal than going out for dinner with someone you’d met four days ago after getting beat up by a drug addict, at any rate. 

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Theodore murmured a strained thank you and feigned interest in the paper menus they’d been handed upon walking in, squinting at the small type, finally bringing it closer to his face so he could actually read it in the dim light. It was then that a waiter came by to usher them to a small table in the corner, apologizing for the wait profusely, and asking if they’d like to try one of their specialty microbrews.

“So, how’s the arm treating you?” Andrew asked after they were settled in and had ordered, both sipping a tall glass of stout, Theodore trying to look flattered rather than annoyed that the waiter insisted on seeing his ID. 

“It’s alright, I guess. Doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, but it’s annoying. I can’t really get anything done, and it’s hard to sleep.” Theodore took another long pull from his glass, glad now for the t-shirt since he was already starting to feel comfortably warm. 

“Are you at least getting time off of work? What do you do anyway?”

“I’m a graphic designer, I mostly do logos or designs for websites and advertising right now. I freelance, so, it’s not like I have an office to go to or anything, but I was in the middle of a few projects.” He shrugged, as well as one could with one arm in a sling. “My clients have all understood.” Theodore put the glass to his lips again. 

Andrew flagged down the waiter when he passed, ordering another round. “What made you want to get into graphic design?” He asked, leaning back in his chair while training his gaze on Theodore. “Can I call you Theo, by the way?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He nodded and pushed his half-empty glass to the side when the waiter arrived with another one. He waited until Andrew’s glass was cleared away and he’d started on his second beer before continuing. “I’ve always had a good eye for color and design. I was pretty artistic when I was younger, had a few pieces in a local art show when I was in high school.” Theodore shrugged again. “It’s something to do.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Andrew said with a smile. “It’s a talent! I can’t even draw stick figures.” He had the look of someone who never exaggerated just to spare someone’s feelings, and Theodore couldn’t help but believe him. “You said you did advertising, anything I would have seen?” 

“Do you know Corvus?” Andrew shook his head, so Theodore continued. “It’s this weird, twenty-four hour, hybrid, bar/coffee shop downtown. They have the best Irish coffee; they use high-end whiskey and good, thick cream--they don’t use whipped cream like all the cheap places do,” he said with a smile, flicking his gaze away when he caught Andrew’s eyes, working hard to feign interest on a piece of artwork on the wall. “Anyway, I designed their logo, and every couple of months I do a mural on their window, but that’s really the only local work I’ve done.”

“I’ll have to check it out sometime, see what you’re capable of.” Andrew grinned again, rakish and crooked, and Theodore laughed into his glass. This time, he caught those amber eyes and held them, watching the dim light play across them, and feeling his cheeks warm a bit. He had an odd flashback of a figure-drawing class in college, spending nearly the whole hour trying to replicate the model’s Roman nose, and getting the feeling that Andrew would give him all the time he needed to get it right. 

“So, what about you? What made you want to go into nursing?” Their waiter checked in on them again, assuring them that their food would be out soon before disappearing into the kitchen. 

“I had leukemia as a kid, which is a really scary thing when you’re five, and your parents are crying, and you have no idea what’s going on. I don’t remember a lot about it, but I was on chemotherapy and steroids, which meant that I spent a lot of time around doctors and nurses.” The waiter arrived with their food and set the burgers down in a hurry before rushing off again. Theodore rolled his eyes as he picked up his plate to swap it with Andrew’s.

“Good thing we’re drinking the same beer; we wouldn’t want to confuse the poor man,” Theodore said in a tone that was dry but not unkind. He put his empty glass on the edge of the table, in hopes that the harried waiter would grab it on his next pass. “But you were saying?” 

“Well, I guess, to a kid, it should have been scary, right? Going to this place to have needles stuck into you, feeling sick afterwards, losing your hair,” Andrew said, offering a napkin to Theodore, whose burger seemed to have suffered some sort of explosion when he bit down on it. “But everyone was really nice, and they made me feel comfortable and safe. Even after the treatments were a success, I had to go to the doctor pretty frequently for extra check-ups and maintenance. Eventually, I was okay, you know? My hair grew back, I wasn’t tired anymore, I could actually go out and play with other kids like I was just...normal...and I knew that it was due to those doctors. So that’s what I’ve always wanted to do; help other people the way they helped me.”

“That’s really noble,” Theodore said, genuinely impressed. He dropped his gaze, looking shy and feeling inadequate. “I’ve done some pro bono design work for charities, but...that’s not really the same.” 

“Hey, you used your skills to do a good thing. Don’t diminish that.” Andrew shifted, and his feet knocked with Theodore’s under the small table. When Theo looked up, Andrew was smiling, not rakish this time, but earnest and kind. Somehow that hit him even harder than the flirtatious grins, and he cleared his throat as his heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to get out. 

“So, uh.” Theodore made an aborted attempt at conversation, stopping and turning his attention to his beer when he saw that Andrew had taken a big bite of his burger. The stout was good; bitter and chocolatey, but they were large glasses, and since Theodore was at least a foot shorter and a good bit lighter than Andrew, he was feeling fairly buzzed by the time he was halfway through the second glass. He finished it anyway, but shook his head when Andrew offered him another. “Are you planning on getting a Ph.D?”

“Nurses have it harder than you’d think,” Andrew said, gesturing with his glass as Theodore finished his burger. “We do all the grunt work. Doctors wouldn’t be able to survive without us.” He tilted his glass to drain the dregs. “I’m still young, I may eventually decide that I want to take that step, but right now I’m doing a lot of good. They were short on nurses before they hired me, so not only am I helping patients, but everyone else is happy because they’re not working double shifts all the time.” Andrew flagged down the waiter again and ordered a third beer for himself, asking Theodore if he was sure he didn’t want anything else. 

“You’d have to carry me out of here,” Theo said with a chuckle, declining the dessert menu when offered, and resting back in his chair as Andrew talked. He studied him, watched how the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, how he’d reach up and brush wispy strands of hair out of his face, and how often he made eye contact. The third or fourth time he caught Theodore’s eyes over the glass, he winked, and Theo finally turned away, feeling his cheeks heating up. 

Outside they were greeted with a blast of chilly wind that whipped Theodore’s hair into his face, leaving him awkwardly combing it to the side with his fingers.

“Do you mind if I have a cigarette?” Andrew asked, pulling a pack out of his pocket to show it to Theodore. He lit it up and stood downwind of Theo so the smoke didn’t blow in his face as they walked to the sidewalk. “Pretty night. Chilly though. Hey, are you cold?” Sticking the cigarette between his lips and holding it there, Andrew pulled off his jacket and offered it to Theodore, helping him fit it over his sling when he accepted it. “You’re swimming in that thing,” he said, but not unkindly, a sweet smile on his lips. “Did you take the bus?” 

“Oh, no, I walked.” Theodore was looking up at the sky. It was a nice night, and Andrew’s jacket smelled like leather and smoke in the best of ways. There was something so homey and familiar about that, and nostalgia crept into him and settled in his chest with his fluttery heart. He glanced up at Andrew, cigarette smoke billowing from his mouth, the short tail in his blond hair blowing in the wind, and realized how much he wanted to kiss him. 

“You live pretty close then? Can I walk you home?” Andrew flicked the ash into the wind, following Theodore when he started to walk in the direction of home. “So have you lived in Portland a long time, then?”

“Only three years, but I like it.” The streets were fairly empty again, it was starting to get late and if there had been a few less people walking along the sidewalk with them it would have felt just like the night they’d met. Theodore thought, rather morbidly, that he wasn’t quite sure how he’d take care of himself if he broke both arms. 

“It’s a great city. I’m originally from Los Angeles, but I love it here. L.A.’s too crowded and grey. Over three million people all crammed into a place where there’s nothing but concrete and smog.” Andrew crouched, stubbed out his cigarette butt on the sidewalk, then tossed it into a nearby trash container. “It just feels more like home here, you know?” 

Theodore nodded, and they walked the rest of the way to his apartment in relative silence, nervousness creeping up Theodore’s stomach and settling in with that rattling heart. His head swam, bouncing from thought to thought until it settled on one: I want to kiss him right now. It stuck there and repeated it ad nauseum, so that when they got the the door of his apartment, Theodore couldn’t think of anything else to say. So he kept his mouth shut and looked up at Andrew, swallowing hard, thinking that he should probably give him his coat back, but not really sure how to do that at this point.

Then Andrew leaned down and, with a soft smile on his lips, pressed his mouth to Theodore’s. His pulse throbbed in his temples as Andrew’s lips parted. He could feel the ache of it all in his stomach, creeping lower, and he reached up, touching the scruff on Andrew's cheek, and feeling hungry and needy as he slipped his tongue into Andrew’s mouth. He tasted like cigarettes and meat and the chocolate notes from the beer, and Theodore wanted more. 

“Well damn,” Andrew said, color on his cheeks when he pulled away from Theodore to catch his breath. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” 

Theodore nodded once and began digging around in his pocket for his keys. “Do you--uh--do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” He asked, managing not to stammer too much even as he dropped his keys. A grin spread across Andrew’s face as he bent to pick up Theo’s keys, proffering them when he straightened out, and bending to kiss him again when he took them. 

“I’d like that.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was strange to hold open the door that few extra seconds to let someone in. The last time Theodore had done that it was because the shower upstairs had started leaking into his unit. The apartment itself looked wrong with Andrew’s tall frame intercepting the clean lines and familiar geometric patterns. Everything was orderly except for Andrew; he was a lanky absurdity, standing in his dark blue scrubs, clashing with everything around him.

Theodore shrugged Andrew’s coat off and hung it on a hook near the door, feeling out of sorts, like a visitor in his own home. “I can make some coffee.” His voice sounded stronger than he expected. Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was the years, all three of them, since he’d been this close to someone he was attracted to. In college, he scoffed at the men in his dorm who would complain about not getting laid in a month--maybe this was what that felt like for them. Maybe it was just that his threshold was years, rather than months.

If you want,” Andrew said absently, taking a long tendril of Theo’s hair into his hand and twisting it carefully around his fingers. “God, your hair. I just want to stuff my hands in it and mess it up.”   
  
Theodore stared at the tangle of his hair in Andrew’s fingers, eyeing the lines of red as they overlapped his skin until he couldn’t figure out where one began and the other ended. “You can,” he said, after wetting his lips, his mouth feeling arid and empty. He tried not to shiver when Andrew buried a hand into his hair, fingertips hot on his scalp, but his eyelids fluttered shut again and he parted his lips out of sense memory alone. Andrew’s lips on his were expected; all of his other lovers had done this too.

But something was different; he couldn’t put his arms around Andrew’s neck and pull him down like he liked, the cast and sling got in the way, and it made him feel off-kilter that Andrew felt right while his own body didn’t. His kiss was both new and familiar, like a good cover of a favorite song, playing on the radio in place of the original. He touched Andrew’s chin instead of holding him, tracing the fine line of his jaw with his knuckles, feeling the rasp of whiskers on his skin, and then trailing his fingers down his throat towards the v-neck of his scrubs. Andrew had released his hair with one hand to instead press it firmly against the small of Theodore’s back, and he yanked him closer as they kissed, stopping with a grunt when Theo’s cast collided with his chest.   
  
“This is going to be interesting.” Andrew gave Theodore some room, taking a minute to kick off his shoes, leaving the white, utilitarian things sitting on their sides near the door, discarded and out of place. “You have to keep it in the sling?”

“For a week, but I can take it off.” Theodore licked his lips again, tasting Andrew’s cigarette on them. “The cast, though...I didn’t really plan for--” He swallowed hard when Andrew wrapped an arm around his good shoulder and pressed his chest to Theodore’s back. The shiver he suppressed earlier escaped when Andrew’s lips touched his ear. It started in the base of his neck and traveled downwards, and by the soft huff of air against his ear, he knew Andrew felt it too.  
  
“I’m a clever man, I’m sure I can come up with something.” Andrew nosed Theodore’s hair out of the way and ran his lips down the curve of his ear. “You like that?” Theo nodded sharply and Andrew laughed, sweet and soft. “I could just do that all night. Or...” He dropped his lips down to Theodore’s neck, murmuring into it. “I could go lower.”

"I need--I want to lie down," Theodore said thickly, grabbing Andrew's wrist as his hand tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. "My knees will buckle."   
  
"Mmm, that's adorable. The couch, then?" Andrew loosened his grip on Theodore, but didn't let him go, still affectionately nibbling at his neck.   
  
"I'm a little old to be adorable." Scoffing, Theodore gently extricated himself from Andrew's grasp. "Come with me." Nervousness nearly overwhelmed him as he started leading Andrew out of the living room and down the short hallway to his bedroom, passing the little kitchenette and his office along the way. By the time he opened his door, his hands were shaking.  _What am I doing?_

"Oh, you're never too old for that." Andrew cupped his cheek and turned his head to kiss him again, coaxing Theo's lips apart with his tongue before slipping it between them. "God, I could kiss you for fucking hours," he murmured, thick and low when Theodore broke the kiss. Theo fumbled with the door and shoved it open before wrapping his arm around Andrew's neck and pulling him into the room. 

If having Andrew in his apartment was strange, seeing him in his bedroom was downright sacrilegious. Nobody had been in there, and whether that was something to be proud of or ashamed of was a debate for another day, because he was in there now, hunching over to catch Theodore's lips as he backed towards his bed, letting him go only when Theodore's legs bumped against the side.  

After letting him go with no small amount of reluctance, Andrew sat on the bed, impressed, giving it a little bounce to test the firmness. "This is really nice."

"I don't sleep all that well sometimes," Theodore said, then hesitated, wondering where the honesty was coming from, whether it was a result of the alcohol, which still had him feeling tipsy in a comfortable, affectionate way, or maybe it was a desire to have Andrew know him in more than just the biblical sense. "I figured a comfortable bed couldn't hurt." He loosened the strap on the sling, gingerly sliding it over his head and placing it on the bedside table. He flexed his elbow a few times, his arm still feeling heavy and ungainly due to the cast.

"Mmm, I'd sleep like a baby in this bed. You'd have to pry me out of it in the morning." Andrew beckoned Theodore, who was still standing somewhat away from the bed, and slid both hands up his sides when he came to him. "Let me help you get that off." He gripped the hem of Theodore's t-shirt on the right side, tugging it up and over his shoulder as Theo wriggled his arm out of the sleeve. "Oh,  _wow_..." Andrew gasped as he got the shirt over Theodore's head, stopping without pulling it over his left arm.

Theodore expected the reaction; there was nothing about him that would make people suspect that his chest and back were covered in extensive, dark red, swirling tattoos, and everyone but his tattoo artist was shocked when they saw him without a shirt. He eased the shirt over his cast and shook it, turning it right-side out and tossing it onto the end table with his sling.   
  
"Holy fuck," Andrew said in a breathy, reverent tone, covering the tattoo on his shoulder with his hand, tracing the lines to the middle of his chest with eager fingertips. "You really are full of surprises." He sank back onto the bed, just staring up at Theodore, intent and curious, his amber eyes raking over him with obvious hunger. Theodore's ears burned, and he knew his flush was rising more. "Do you have more?" He asked, and Theodore turned around, sweeping his hair over his shoulder to show him the piece on his back. Both of Andrew's hands were on his back immediately, stroking his shoulder blades and his spine, stopping mid-back where the tattoos ended. 

When he stopped, Theodore sat beside him on the bed, waiting for the questions about how much it hurt, or why he chose the design, or why he got so many tattoos. Sometimes, when people were really bold, they'd ask if he got off on the pain, and Theodore suspected that Andrew was the type to ask that.   
  
"God, they're beautiful," Andrew said in a soft voice. He brushed Theodore's hair back off of his shoulder, unabashedly staring. " _You're_  beautiful. I'd say handsome, but that sounds so cheap. These...this...you're a fucking work of art."

"You're laying it on kind of thick," Theodore said, feeling awkward and embarrassed as Andrew touched him again, sliding both hands over his shoulders and behind his neck, dropping his head to kiss him once more.   
  
"M'sorry," Andrew said, nuzzling up against his ear. "I've never seen anyone like you before. I just want to--" He trailed off, burying his face into Theodore's neck, his tongue hot against Theo's hammering pulse. Theodore stopped him, just long enough to clamor to the middle of his bed to lay down on his back with his left arm awkwardly off to the side.   
  
As Andrew climbed over him, smiling that crooked little half-smile, he dropped one hand between Theodore’s legs and pressed it there, cupping his cock through the denim, encouraged by the sharp intake of air and the speed with which Theodore raised his hips to press into his hand. "You like that?" Andrew leaned over him, brushing their lips lightly, pulling his head back when Theodore tried to forcefully kiss him. "What else do you like?"

Theodore groaned, tilting his head until Andrew was out of view. Why was he asking questions when he had his hands on him like this? Not that thinking was easy with a fuzzy head and a tongue that tasted like someone else's. The added sensation of Andrew's hand, warm and firm and slowly massaging, made the idea of putting thoughts into words laughable. He felt Andrew's tongue on his earlobe, accompanied by a murmuring plea of  _tell me what you want me to do_ , and a whisper of his name in the sort of voice that made Theodore shudder from shoulders to toes. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a huff and a gasp. He didn't know how to answer; these weren't words that his mouth was used to shaping, but even behind the fog of alcohol and sensation, he knew what he wanted to say.

_It's been so fucking long since anyone has even looked at me and smiled the way you do, and even though I feel like cheap and tawdry for being in bed with someone I just met, I want you. If I had condoms I'd want you inside of me; I'd fucking beg you just to feel that connection to someone because it has been so long that I forgot that it even existed, and now you've got your hand on my cock and all I can think about is how big your fucking hands are and how much I missed feeling small underneath a big man like you. You want to know what I like? I like wrapping my legs around my lover's waist while he fucking bucks into me like an animal. Can you do that? Can you look at me like a tiger looks at prey and bare your teeth like you'll fucking devour me?_

It was there, in his head and in his throat, and he was sure that when Andrew could feel those words when kissed him and filled his mouth with a tongue that still tasted vaguely of tobacco. But no, he wanted to hear them. When they parted, Theodore's lips wet and open as he gasped for air, Andrew asked him again what he wanted, what he liked. Finally, in a fit of frustrated desire, he grabbed Andrew's neck and pulled him close. "Just take your fucking clothes off already," Theodore hissed, feeling that red flush deepen when Andrew laughed sweetly.

"Yes sir," he said, playfully saluting as he sat up on his knees and peeled off the top of his scrubs. It was dim in the bedroom, the only light coming from a streetlamp outside the thin curtain, but Theodore could still see the fine hair on Andrew's chest, and follow it down to a thick dark trail on his stomach. He then shimmied out of the bottoms, kicking them to the end of the bed and giving his cock, thick and turgid, a shameless stroke before reaching down to undo the buttons on Theodore's jeans. "Anything else you want to order me to do?” He asked with a grin, unzipping Theo’s jeans and pulling down the front of them, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock through his cotton briefs.

“Stop teasing me.” Theodore put his hand over his face, rocking his hips to rub his cock against Andrew’s hand, and groaning in frustration as he took it away.   
  
“I’m not,” Andrew said sweetly as he tugged Theodore’s jeans down and off, piling them at the end of the bed with his scrubs. “I just think it’s really fucking hot to hear you boss me around like that. So tell me what to do. Bonus points if you can growl it at me like that again.”

Theodore slid his hand down, covering his mouth briefly before dropping his arm behind his head to shove a pillow underneath it. He watched Andrew, sitting back on his heels, looking, for all his scruff and wild hair and eager attention, like a puppy waiting for a treat. Theodore licked his lips, a new kind of excitement building in him as his mind raced and he watched Andrew staring at him, still and expectant. “Come here,” he said, and Andrew obeyed, climbing up the bed next to him and stretching out, resting his head on an elbow. It took Theodore two tries and pressing his lips to Andrew’s ear to get out the rest. “Use your hands, then kiss me until I can’t breathe.”

Andrew overwhelmed him immediately, kissing him roughly as he slid a hand down his briefs and wrapped it around his cock. Theodore grabbed Andrew by the hair, the elastic band snapping out of it and flying across the room as he twisted a fistful of hair into his hand, feeling electric and hot when Andrew grunted into his mouth. All he could think about was Andrew’s hand and tongue, and how he smelled more like sweat than cologne when he was naked, and how that was somehow so much better.   
 **  
**Theodore encouraged Andrew when he pulled away to breathe, whispering _fuck_  and  _more_ , and thrusting into his hand when his grip tightened, the muscles in his thighs clenching as he tried to press his feet firmly into the mattress to buck his hips at a better angle. It built quickly, his pulse throbbing so loudly in his head that he could barely hear himself groaning when Andrew’s mouth covered his again, and when Andrew bit on his lower lip and tugged at the end of a kiss, Theodore threw his head back into the pillows, his stomach muscles spasming as he came.

He felt that phenomenal weakness come over him as he lay there, gasping for air, Andrew’s hand still pistoning slowly on his cock. Letting go of his hair, he reached down to push Andrew’s sticky hand off of him, already over sensitive to the point of soreness. “There are tissues on the nightstand,” he said, feeling like he was both heavy and light at the same time, sinking deep into his satisfaction as Andrew stretched over him to grab the box of tissues.   
  
There was then a loud beeping from the end of Theodore’s bed, and he sat up slightly, confused, taking a tissue from Andrew when he offered it.

“Oh shit, that’s the hospital’s ringtone.” Andrew grabbed the phone after cleaning off his hand and answered it. After a half dozen  _mm-hmms_  and  _yeahs_ , he jammed the screen to turn it off, sighing heavily. “Fuck. There was a six car pile-up on the 405. They need me there as soon as possible.” He hopped off the bed and hurriedly dressed, putting his shirt on inside out in his haste. “I’m so sorry to just run like this, I really am, but I need to go.” He leaned over and gave Theodore a quick kiss on the cheek. “I had a great time. I’ll call you, but you can always text me if you want.”

Theodore nodded dumbly, watching as he took long strides out of the bedroom. He heard him in the living room, then the door closed. As he lay there in the dark silence, he felt uneasy and out of sorts, wanting Andrew to come back and spend the rest of the night, feeling bereft of his touch since it was so quickly torn away. At the same time, he felt kind of sick trying to rationalize what had just happened, thinking instantly about Thomas and the fact that it had taken them nearly six months to end up in bed together.   
  
Neither of these were thoughts he wanted to have, and they ended up keeping him up for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Theodore Murphy was cleaning his apartment at four in the morning again. The washer, full of sheets and pillowcases, was rumbling in its closet just off the kitchen, while Theodore wiped down the countertops with antibacterial cloths that made his hands smell like antiseptic lemon. The coffee machine, an expensive Italian affair that did everything from grind beans to steam milk, had been bubbling on and off for twelve hours, leaving the entire apartment smelling like someone had built a coffee shop in the middle of a lemon grove.

There was no need to be cleaning like this; Theodore was fairly fastidious to begin with, but whenever he went for over twenty-four hours without sleep, he always got an inexplicable urge to clean. Sleep was particularly elusive right now.

After Andrew had left, Theodore had spent hours laying in a bed that smelled like someone else, his mind spinning furiously, pinballing between thoughts of just how wonderful it had been to be desired again, to how worthless he felt for wanting to be touched that badly by someone he barely knew. That was something  _other_ people did: "hooked-up," and had one-night stands. Despite his quirks, he had approached every other relationship from a traditional angle. There was always some kind of courtship, no matter how stuffy and outmoded that word seemed, and this shouldn't have felt as right as it did.

Andrew had called the next day, and Theodore let it go to voicemail. The canned, far-away version of his voice sounded unflaggingly cheerful as it came out of the tiny cell phone speaker. He wanted to go out again, dinner, maybe a movie or dancing, he said, telling Theodore to call him when he got the chance. He didn't, and the next day there was another voicemail, apologizing if he was bothering Theodore while he was busy, but again extending an invitation to go out.

Theodore turned the ringer off and sunk into old habits. He chewed the nails off of his right hand, unable to do the same with the left. He stopped sleeping, drinking coffee like water and taking catnaps on the sofa in between old episodes of  _The Twilight Zone_ and  _Alfred Hitchcock Presents_. He ordered in, spending too much on greasy Chinese food and wasting most of it.

Five days in, after 6 messages and a dozen texts, each increasing in confusion and worry, Theodore found the elastic band in his bedroom. It had shot off towards the window and was sitting on the sill, just under the curtain. He could vividly remember how thick and soft Andrew's hair was in his hands, and his cock started to stiffen at the recollection of how he'd grunted into his mouth when he tugged at it. Without thinking, he used the elastic to put his hair back, feeling sick with want and indecision.

He called his mother for the first time since he'd broken his arm, telling her that there had been an accident, but he was doing just fine. She asked him about the usual, about work, about friends, and about his love life, making no attempt to hide her joy when he said he'd gone out on a date, even if he wasn't sure what would come of it.

"You can't hang on to Thomas forever, sweetheart. It's been three years, and you're doing great in Portland. You need to let yourself be happy."

"I know, mom." Theodore always took the same position when he talked to her; hunching into the corner of his sectional sofa, with his knees to his chest. It felt a bit like a hug. "How's Katherine?"

"Oh she's doing much better; the nightmares have finally stopped. The adoption was finalized in January, and I think it really helped her feel like part of the family."

"That's great," Theodore said, letting a soft smile cross his face. The last time he'd visited, he and Katherine sat up all night together, eating popcorn and watching cartoons. She was afraid to sleep, because more often than not when she closed her eyes she’d have horrible dreams about the biological father who beat her. Theodore just couldn't sleep. "I...I don't thank you enough, mom. I don't know what kind of life I would have had if you and dad hadn't--"

"Oh Theodore, baby, you don't owe me anything. Your father and I wanted children, and we chose you. I love you, and I'm happy that I did such a good job raising you that you're appreciative, but you don't need to thank me. I'm proud of you, and you know that your father was too."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, not wanting to cry on the phone with his mom. He knew she'd keep him there until it stopped, and that was always exhausting. "I know he did. I love you mom, but I've gotta get going. Hug my baby sister for me, okay?"

There was a knock on the door after he hung up, and he rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt as he got to his feet. He peered out the peephole suspiciously, not used to getting visitors and not expecting any deliveries.

Andrew was standing on his porch, wearing jeans and a teal sweater, holding something that Theodore couldn't discern from the odd fish-eye view he had of the outside world. His hair was down, and Theodore's hand immediately shot up to pull the elastic out of his hair, stuffing it in the pocket of his jeans. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself and failing as he turned the knob. His hands were shaking, and he shook his sleeves over them to   
cover that up before he opened the door.

"Hey," Andrew's face lit up. He looked completely different out of his scrubs, a bit younger, a bit scruffier, and handsome to a degree that seemed unfair. With a hopeful smile, he lifted his arm to offer Theodore a six pack of dark brown bottles. "I was thinking that if you were really busy, you might need a pick-me-up or something. It turns out they actually bottle that beer we had, and I thought you might like some, since it seemed like you enjoyed it."

There was something about Andrew that was comfortable. He had a warm aura of California that stuck to him ever since he admitted to previously living in L.A. Even though it was grey and cold outside, Theodore's front step was sunny blond. It made him ache, and a pall of guilt came over him upon seeing that smile. "Why don't you come in?" He asked, taking the proffered beer into the kitchen. "Do you want some coffee?" He asked, raising his voice to be heard in the living room as he put the beer in the half-empty fridge and grabbed one of his oversized mugs from the cupboard.

"Sure, can you put a teaspoon of sugar in it for me?" Theodore did, listening to Andrew move around in the other room. He heard him take off his shoes, and when he turned to take the cup of coffee to him he found that Andrew had padded quietly into the kitchenette.

"Thanks," he said, taking the mug, spinning it to hold the handle in his left hand. "How's the arm?"

"It itches."

"Yeah, it's going to do that until you get it taken off," Andrew said, giving him a sympathetic smile before sipping the coffee. "So, did I do something to piss you off?" Andrew sat down at the small glass dining table, folding one arm over it, watching Theodore as he poured the remaining coffee into one of those big mugs and spooned in sugar, putting it to his lips, avoiding Andrew's eyes. "I really thought that we had a good time, you know? I'm just kind of confused."

Theodore stayed in the kitchen, keeping a counter and the table between him and Andrew. There was so much to say, and so very little that he wanted to actually admit to. He focused on the coffee instead. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said, honestly, putting the cup down and resting his arms on the counter, suddenly feeling tired for the first time in two days. "I...don't usually...move that quickly," he finally said, after a long internal debate on how to explain this without bringing up Thomas. "I think I freaked myself out. I should have explained, and I'm sorry."  

"Is that all?" Andrew placed his cup onto the center of the small table, resting his elbow on the table and cupping his chin. "I don't care how quickly we move; I think you're an interesting man and I want to get to know you better. I won't lie and say I'm not attracted to you, but I can be very, very patient."

"That's a little..." Theo scratched the back of his neck before grabbing his coffee cup again, straightening out as he took a sip. His dinette set looked so tiny with Andrew sitting at it that he started thinking about what kind of replacement he'd have to buy to have a table that properly fit two people.  "You're way too understanding for what an ass I've been."

"If you think that not answering my phone calls for a couple days is being an ass, you totally need to meet some of my exes." Andrew grimaced. "Actually, I wouldn't recommend meeting them. That's probably a bad idea." Theodore cracked a small smile. Encouraged, Andrew continued. "I'd like to go out with you again, if you want that."

"Can we back up a little?" Theodore took his mug to the sink, dumping the leftover coffee down the drain and rinsing out the cup. He set the mug on a drying rack, turning again to face Andrew. "It's been a long time since I dated," he said, resting his arms on the counter again, feeling sublimely sleepy.

"How about we start over completely?" Andrew stood and met Theodore at the counter, staying on the opposite side. "We'll go on a traditional first date, maybe coffee or something, and at the end of the night I'll give you a very chaste peck on the cheek like the gentleman that I am. We'll have a totally clean slate, okay?"

"You're persistent."

"Some people say stubborn, but I think I like persistent better." Andrew grinned, raking his fingers through his hair and taking a step away from the counter. "Unfortunately, my schedule is kind of awful for the next couple of weeks; the girl that usually works nights is on vacation, and I ended up with most of her shifts. Most of the time I'm not scheduled to be out of the hospital until three or four in the morning."

"I'm usually up then," Theodore said as he took Andrew's empty mug. "If you wanted to go get coffee at three in the morning, that'd be fine."

"Still having trouble sleeping?"

"All my life," Theodore said with a shrug. "But with any luck, that means I'll be awake when you are." He smiled slightly, hoping that made things clear enough for Andrew, not sure that he could give him any more of an explanation of why his attitude was so different now that he was there. Theodore couldn't really explain it to himself, but it was like Andrew offered him some kind of modulation. Everything felt less complicated than when Theo's spinning mind tried to figure things out on its own.

"Aright, coffee at four tomorrow morning? Why don't we go to that Corvus place you told me about? It's actually really close to the hospital, so I'll be able to meet you right after my shift." Andrew grinned toothily when Theodore nodded. "Since you look fucking exhausted, I'm going to go for now, but I'll be waiting for you tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Thanks for stopping by to rattle my cage," Theodore said, meeting Andrew's eyes and meaning it. Andrew shrugged, that grin looking a little sheepish as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"What can I say? If I'm good at anything, it's bugging people." Theodore followed him into the living room, staring at the way Andrew's hair fell in his neck when he bent to put his shoes on.

"You left this here, by the way." Theodore dug the elastic out of his pocket and proffered it to Andrew as he turned the knob to leave. Andrew lifted a hand and shook his head, telling Theodore to keep it as he waved and walked out onto the step. When he reached the street and Theodore was still standing in the open doorway, Andrew winked, and made a gesture as if to shoo him back into the house.

Theodore closed the door, locked it, and tugged the elastic over one hand, wearing it like a bracelet on his right wrist. He didn't really believe in good luck charms, but after sleeping for a full, uninterrupted 8 hours while wearing that elastic, he got the feeling that he should.  


	5. Chapter 5

There was only one other person inside when Theodore Murphy arrived at Corvus, which made the lounge-like atmosphere of the unique café seem all the more intimate. He gravitated to his usual spot, sitting on one of the sleek black benches that lined three of the four walls, and sinking low into a deceptively soft cushion. There was something soft and bluesy floating out of concealed speakers, and combined with the dim lighting and scent of freshly roasted beans, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable. On the way in, Theodore noted that the mural he did on the plate glass window needed replacing; the mascot, a stylized crow, was still sitting in its coffee cup, surrounded by flowers and chocolates, all painted in the same red, white, and black motif as the interior. If the previous years were any indication, the owner would want something summery soon; last year Theo painted a Californian beach scene, with palms, surf, and the L.A. skyline, that had made him somewhat homesick at the time.

“Theodore! What did you do to your arm?” A squat, round-faced woman came around the corner from behind the counter, giving Theo the kind of look that mothers give their sons when they come home with skinned knees and ripped clothing. Her short, black hair was tied back into pigtails, and her eyes were a stunning blue, even under the dim yellow lights. She was wearing the unofficial Corvus uniform, black slacks and a black polo, the company logo small and unobtrusive on the collar.   
  
“Hey Sig,” Theodore said, smiling as he curled up on the bench, tucking a leg underneath himself. “Got in a fight with a bear. You should see the bear.” He lifted up his left arm as she sat down beside him, pulling a marker out of her pocket to sign.   
  
“One of those hipster bears, right?” She asked with a crooked grin, signing her name in a loopy, shaky scrawl. “The ones who moved to Portland for all the organic honey?”   
  
Theodore laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he closed them, shaking his head. “You know it.” He rested his arm in his lap when she was done. “Truthfully, I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, and sort of lost my mind.” Theodore toyed with a long strand of hair, sweeping it behind his ear as Sig pried for more details. He told her the story: the handsome nurse, the drug addict, and the loose brick, trying to play down the excitement and danger rather than embellishing it.

The tiny bell above the door jingled, loud in the empty café, and Andrew stepped through the door wearing that brown leather jacket again, a scarf stuffed into the collar. He scanned the room, looking curiously at the decor as he unzipped his jacket, stuffing a pair of gloves into one of the pockets.   
  
“You left out one detail,” Sig said, tapping Theodore’s cast with the pen. “Who’s Andrew?” Theo nodded his head slightly to the door, where Andrew was shrugging off his coat, clashing spectacularly with the dark surroundings in his pale lavender scrubs. “Ahh, the handsome nurse.” Favoring Theodore with a knowing wink, Sig got to her feet. “One pot of Vienna roast and two slices of pecan pie?” He nodded, and she disappeared into the back.   
  
“This is pretty fancy for a coffee shop,” Andrew said as he joined Theodore, taking the chair across from the table, looking disheveled and tired. There were bags under his eyes that Theodore had never noticed before, and the stubble on his chin was threatening to thicken into a beard if he wasn’t careful. But when he smiled at Theo, a small measure of weariness seemed to disappear.  
  
“It’s a bar too, until last call,” Theodore said as Andrew settled in, “and they have live music fairly often. That’s why there aren’t any tables in the center; it’s a stage.” Andrew craned his head around to glance at the rest of the room, as if he hadn’t really seen it when he came in. “You look exhausted.”   
  
“It was a long shift.” Andrew rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Sig when she returned, carrying a carafe, a sugar bowl, two mugs, and two slices of pie on a plastic tray. She set the table, handing each of them a mug and filling it with steaming coffee as she distributed the rest of the items on the tray.   
  
“Do you need milk or cream for your coffee, hun?” Sig asked Andrew, more than familiar with how Theodore took his. “Well, alright then, you just call for me if you need me, I’ll be in the back doing inventory.” Sig winked conspiratorially at Theodore as she left, carrying the empty tray in front of her like a shield.   
  
“So, this is a bar/lounge/café that serves pie?” Andrew asked, raising a brow as he reached for the sugar bowl and found that it contained cubes rather than granules. “Weird.” He scooped out two sugar cubes and dropped them into his coffee, stirring until they dissolved.   
  
“You don’t know the half of it. Wait until you meet the owner.” Theodore scooted towards the table and picked up his fork, spearing the narrow tip of his slice of pie and bringing it to his mouth.   
  
“What, the woman who just brought all of this out here?” Andrew put his lips to his mug and tentatively sipped the coffee. “Mm, that’s really good. Is this the same kind you have at home?”   
  
Theodore nodded, sipping the coffee slowly. “Sig’s just the night shift, the owner is usually here in the afternoon. He’s a piece of work, real flair for the dramatic.” Theodore said with a small smile, shifting his other foot underneath him, crossing his legs easily on the wide bench.   
  
“Sounds like you’re here a lot,” Andrew said, taking his first bite of pie and chewing thoughtfully. When Theodore lifted the cup to his mouth again, Andrew’s gaze flickered to his wrist, where he was still wearing the black elastic. A smile broke over his face, and he covered it with the cup.   
  
“Pretty frequently. I get a huge discount because of the work I do here. Doesn’t really make sense to go anywhere else.” Theodore scraped the pecan filling off of the crust of his pie and separated the two on his plate, shoving the crust to one side and ignoring it in favor of the treacly pecans. “Did you have a rough night at the hospital?”   
  
“No worse than others,” Andrew said with a small shrug. “There were a few emergencies. No car accidents this time, thankfully, but we did have a woman come in and start seizing in the lobby. Mostly it was just long; I think I must have stitched up at least ten head wounds today.” Andrew sort of sunk into himself as he talked, leaning his elbows onto the table and resting his head on them.   
  
“Sounds glamorous,” said Theodore dryly as he scraped the last of the pie filling off of his plate, sucking on the tines of the fork for a moment before setting it and the plate on the edge of the table.  
  
“I’m certainly not in it for the fame and fortune.” Andrew pushed the remaining half of his pie towards Theodore. “Go ahead, I’m not all that hungry.”   
  
Theodore took the plate, settling back on the bench seat to finish it off. “Still, you’re doing a hell of a lot of good, even if it’s tedious. I really respect people who are willing to sort of…” Theodore trailed off, gesturing aimlessly with his fork in between bites. “Devote themselves to a higher cause, you know? My dad was…” Theodore pressed his lips together firmly, dropping his gaze to stare at the mangled pie. “He was a pediatrician,” he finished, sucking in a long breath through his nose as he finished off Andrew’s pie, wondering what had compelled him to even bring that up.   
  
“Oh yeah?” Andrew asked, smiling as he refilled his cup. Sig appeared, proving, as always, that she had the perfectly honed instincts of a life-long waitress, knowing just when a table needed checking in on. She cleared away the plates and promised to be back with another carafe of coffee when they needed it. “Is he retired now?”   
  
“No, uh.” Theodore furrowed his brow and absently stirred his coffee. “He passed away two years ago.”   
  
“Shit. I’m sorry. I get all tactless when I’m tired.” Andrew quirked his lips sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably, a necklace sliding out from underneath his scrubs, glinting in the dim light. Theodore leaned forward, squinting at the oval pendant.   
  
“Is that a patron saint medallion?” Theodore reached across the table to gently slide his fingers under the silver charm, flipping it in his hand. “You weren’t wearing this the other night…”   
  
“Huh? Oh, I thought I took that off.” He reached up to touch the medallion, his hand brushing against Theodore’s as he released it. “I usually leave it in my locker at work.” He rubbed the pendant fondly, tucking it back underneath the collar of his white undershirt. “Are you Catholic?”   
  
Theodore shook his head, pouring another cup of coffee for himself. “My mother is.”   
  
“Mine too,” Andrew said, touching the medallion through his shirt. “She gave this to me when I got my ASN, uh, my degree. It’s Saint Catherine of Siena; patron saint of nursing. I don’t really believe but…I guess it sort of makes me feel better knowing it’s there, you know?”   
  
“I understand,” Theodore said, glancing at the black elastic around his wrist, shaking his sleeve over it. Sig returned with another carafe, a bit more bounce in her step now that the ambient music had shifted from slow and smoky to more upbeat. The first rays of sunlight were starting to appear on the horizon, and Theodore watched the clouds turn purple over Andrew’s shoulder. They sat together in companionable silence, Andrew slumping over the table after finishing his third cup, apparently unaffected by the caffeine.   
  
“God, you look so tired.” Theodore stretched out his legs, scooting to the edge of the bench seat. “Maybe we ought to call this a morning so you can go get some sleep.”   
  
Andrew stretched his arms over his head and yawned, the crack in his shoulder audible in the quiet café. “I think you’re right. I’m so sorry, I’m usually wired after a night shift, but I feel like I could sleep for three days.” Andrew got to his feet, putting his fist to his mouth to stifle another yawn.   
  
“Hey,” Theodore stood as Andrew turned to leave. “What happened to that gentlemanly kiss on the cheek I was promised?” If Theodore didn’t know better, he might have thought he heard Sig squealing from the back room when Andrew’s face melted into a sweet smile and he leaned in, bending down, hands in his jacket pockets, and, with no small amount of dramatic flair, gave Theo a light peck on the cheek.   
  
“That was more than worth the sleep deprivation,” Andrew said with a wink, yawning into the back of his hand as he shuffled out of the cafe into the dim Portland sunrise. Theodore watched as he cupped his hands to light a cigarette before disappearing into the city, leaving a wispy trail of smoke where he stood, like a pale, dissipating ghost.   
  
“Well, he’s hot.” Theodore started when he heard Sig behind him, his cheeks heating just a bit. “You happen to know if he has a brother?” She asked, picking up the empty mugs in one hand, the carafe in another.   
  
“I have no idea,” Theodore said with a laugh. “But I’m glad to know you approve.” He absently scratched his left hand, trying not to dig into the cast too much despite how irritating it was. “Tell Zev that I’ll be in to do the window as soon as the cast comes off. Ask him if a sunrise over Hawthorne bridge sounds good and have him get back with me.”   
  
Theodore paid, leaving Sig alone in the empty café as he left, tightening his jacket against the cold morning air, thinking about the rasp of whiskers on his cheek and the elastic band around his wrist, and feeling warmer than he had any right to.


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Theodore did after getting the cast removed was take a shower. Six weeks of haphazard baths with one arm wrapped in a bag had nearly driven him crazy. He stood under water that was hot enough to sting, finally getting rid of the stiffness and persistent itch that had made the last four weeks a study in how ingenuitive annoyance can make a person. Two days prior, he was in the process of trying to invent something thin enough, flat enough, and strong enough to fit between the cast and his arm without snapping off, but a phone call from Andrew distracted him just long enough to decide that was a bad idea.

Though Theodore had done the best he could to keep up with his clients, there was a month’s worth of design work he needed to do when the cast came off. He spent nearly a week straight in front of the computer, mocking up logos and websites, making minor design changes to existing projects, and spending long, tedious hours in email conversations and Skype sessions with clients who couldn’t articulate what they wanted.   
  
Andrew came over unannounced twice. The first time, carrying a pizza and a six pack of beer, he was undeterred when Theo said he had work to do. Andrew dragged couch cushions into his office and settled in on the floor, setting up an impromptu picnic which he enjoyed in comfortable silence until Theodore gave up and joined him. The second time he showed up it was only for five minutes, with a pie and a carafe of coffee from Corvus, claiming that Sig only let it go after he promised to come back in a pair of tight jeans.   
  
So they went back, with Andrew in the tight jeans, staying for hours despite Sig fanning herself dramatically every time she walked by. They drank coffee and ate chocolate cream pie, leaning conspiratorially over the table as they compared tastes in movies and music, their voices increasing in volume and disbelief as the list of matching favorites continued to grow. They only realized how long they’d been there with Sig’s shift ended and they looked up to notice that Corvus had filled up with the groggy morning crowd, more than a few of them shooting Theodore and Andrew a look of hungover annoyance.

Andrew called so frequently that it got to be routine; it was always early morning, usually while Theo was still hard at work, when the phone would ring and Andrew would be on the line. Sometimes it was just a hello, sometimes an invitation to go out for coffee or dinner, but always in that sweet, eager voice, and never without something to say. Theodore would pace the house with a cup of coffee, then curl up in bed and just listen to him talk. More than once, he fell asleep that way, waking to a stiff neck and pins and needles in his hand from holding the phone to his ear for hours while he slept.   
  
One morning, around two, his call from Andrew sounded oddly urgent, and instead of a vague description of his shift, or a conversation about what movie they ought to go see when Theodore had some free time, Andrew insisted Theodore should meet him at the hospital as soon as possible, quickly adding that he was fine, but that Theo needed to hurry.   
  
Without changing out of his jeans, which were covered in clay from a long overdue session at the pottery wheel, Theodore threw on an oversized sweatshirt, tied back his hair, and called a cab. The ride made him jittery. Despite Andrew’s reassurances, all he could think about was the phone call from his mom two years ago, the one that had started with; “Theodore, I’m at the hospital with your father; they’re not sure he’s going to make it.”

But when he arrived, Andrew was outside waiting for him, shivering in dark green scrubs, finishing off a cigarette with an over excited grin on his face. He jogged to the cab when Theodore got out, firmly grabbing his hand and leading him towards the hospital, walking with such long strides that Theodore had to jog to keep up. As they passed through the sliding glass doors, the receptionist, a young woman with a thin, severe face, looked up at Andrew with a smile that faded quickly into a suspiciously raised brow as she watched him dragging Theodore into the elevator.   
  
“You’ve gotta see this,” Andrew said, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child, giving Theodore’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. On the roof, he yanked his hospital ID to the end of its zipcord and swiped it through a card reader, pushing the door open when it beeped.  
  
Outside it was black; there were no lights on the roof, and the wan, yellow light from the street lamps was too dim to illuminate anything taller than two stories. Theodore slipped his hand into Andrew’s again, letting him take him across the roof, squinting into the darkness as he led him to the edge of the building. Andrew sat cross-legged, leaning back on his hands, and gestured for Theodore to join him. As he sat, Andrew put an arm around his shoulders and affectionately pulled him in, pointing up at the sky. Theodore glanced up, curious, smiling as he watched dozens of tiny streaks of light passing across the dark sky. “You couldn’t have told me there was a meteor shower on the phone, huh?” He asked, fondly resting his head on Andrew’s shoulder.   
  
“What can I say? Beautiful things remind me of you,” Andrew stroked his hair lightly, laughing when Theodore threw his arm off his shoulder and gave him a playful shove.

“That is the  _worst_  line I have ever heard, and you know it. How many times did you practice that?” Theodore curled his knees to his chest, burrowing into the huge sweatshirt and watching the sky, comfortably warm.

“Less than you’d think,” Andrew said defensively, settling himself again, his eyes following a meteor as burned down into the horizon. Theodore uncurled and scooted up against him, wrapping an arm around his waist and leaning there while slow minutes passed in silence. “Besides,” Andrew said, “you’re going to get carpal tunnel by sitting at that PC for eighteen hours a day, and if I called you, I wouldn’t get to watch it with you.”   
  
“Mmm, that was almost romantic.”   
  
“I could try harder, if you’d like, throw in a sonnet or two, maybe serenade you.” Andrew slipped his hand into Theodore’s, lacing their fingers as he nuzzled his nose into his hair. Andrew’s pager beeped and stuffed his free hand into his pocket, pulling it out, the distinctly electronic green light casting an odd glow on Andrew’s face as he held it up.   
  
“You’re not on the clock still, are you?” Theodore asked, furrowing his brow as Andrew shoved the beeper back into his pocket, sort of shrugging against Theodore’s slight weight.

“Technically this is my lunch, but I ate before you got here.” Releasing Theodore’s hand, Andrew pulled the elastic out of his hair, scratching his head vigorously and shaking it out before tying it back up in a messy tail. “It’s kind of been a shitty night,” he said, reluctantly getting to his feet, offering Theodore a hand. “I just wanted to see you for a bit.” He smiled sheepishly at Theodore as he stood.   
  
“You could have just said that on the phone, you know. Turn around, your hair is ridiculous.” Theodore pulled the tie out of Andrew’s hair, combing it out with his fingers.   
  
“Could I? The last time I saw you was nearly a week ago, and that’s only because I dropped by.” Andrew tilted his head back while Theodore fussed with his hair, bending back a bit so Theodore didn’t have to stand on his toes.

“You know I’ve got a ton of work backed up, and with you working the night shift, there aren’t really a lot of things that we can go out and do other than go to Corvus.” Theodore patiently  twisted the tie around Andrew’s hair, pulling it into a neat tail. “Besides, I talk to you every day, and it’s not like I’m ignoring you.”  
  
“I know, and thank you.” Andrew straightened up and turned around. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, Theodore could see that he still looked exhausted, like he was either having a hard time adjusting to the night shifts, or just wasn’t sleeping. “I’m really just…kind of infatuated with you,” he admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets and sucking his teeth. “It’s this thing I do. I meet people, I get interested, and then suddenly I can’t get enough. It’s sort of like when there’s a new hit song, and even though it’s played to death on the radio you still want to listen to it over and over when you get home.” Andrew shook his head, looking at his feet. “I know I sound crazy.”   
  
“Andrew,” Theodore said cautiously, “we’ve known one another for just under three months, and I’m counting the night that I broke my arm in that timeline. We’ve seen a lot of one another since then, and if things keep going the way they’re going, I’d say we’re probably going to see a lot of one another in the future too.” Theodore bit the corner of his lower lip, dropping his gaze in thought. “When I moved to Portland, it was because my previous relationship fell apart,” Theodore said, holding up a hand when Andrew opened his mouth. “We were together for seven years, and…it’s still not easy to talk about, at all, and I’m not going to say anything else about that right now. But if I wasn’t interested in you, I wouldn’t be dating you.”  
  
“I don’t want to fuck this up,” Andrew said in a rush. “That’s another thing that I do. Fuck things up. A lot.” He smiled, but it was tight-lipped and awkward. “I mean, I really want you to be comfortable with the pace of this, but we haven’t even kissed since…” Trailing off, he made a vague twirling gesture with one hand, flicking his gaze away from Theodore. “My birthday is coming up in a month, you know, and I was hoping to spend it with you. But I keep thinking about what I’d want to do, and all I can come up with is how much I want to kiss you again and how fucking coercive and weird it would be to ask for a kiss for my birthday.”

“Is that what this is about?” Theodore asked, raising a brow as he watched Andrew grimace, getting a strong reminder in the pit of his stomach of how he’d felt after that first date, when kissing Andrew was more of a physical compulsion than a conscious thought. “Come here,” Theodore said, and tugged one of Andrew’s hands out of his pocket. He waited until he tilted his head down to face him, then put both arms around Andrew’s neck, like he’d wanted to that night at his house, but couldn’t because the cast was in the way, and used his weight to force Andrew to bend. It still felt right, only this time he had complete control. When he pressed his mouth to Andrew’s, lips parted, tongue eagerly pressing until Andrew opened his mouth to it,  he could taste cigarette smoke, and the quick rise of Andrew’s chest against his own made him feel so powerful that his cock was half-hard by the time he let Andrew go. Feeling drunk on the rush of his pulse, he licked his wet lips while Andrew stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, and if it wasn’t so dark, Theodore had a feeling that there would be color on his cheeks.  
  
Andrew placed his hands on either side of Theodore’s neck as he leaned and kissed him again, needy and forceful, huffing through his nose. He then dropped his hands to wrap his arms around Theo’s back and pull him in, pressing against him, a low groan in his throat when Theodore bit down on his lower lip and tugged. “Now you can ask for something else.” Theodore stroked the back of Andrew’s neck, toying with the short hair there, smiling when Andrew rested his forehead against his. “Relax, okay?   
  
There was a loud thunk from behind them as the door to the elevator opened, a wedge of yellow light spilling onto the pale concrete. Theodore yanked his hands away, wiping his mouth sheepishly as someone with a flashlight stepped out of the hallway and began scanning the roof in slow sweeps.  
  
“Are we allowed to be up here?” Theodore asked in a low whisper, wondering exactly how he could manage to look casual when he suddenly felt so suspicious.   
  
“I smoke up here during the day.” Andrew pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and tapped one out, putting the pack to his lips to grab it by the filter. He cupped his hand around it and fiddled with his lighter, trying three times before an actual flame flickered to life and set the paper and tobacco smoldering.   
  
“Hey!” Theodore winced as the flashlight was shined into his face, trying to squint past it to see who was holding it. “Get over here, nobody’s supposed to be here at night.”   
  
Theodore shot a glance at Andrew, a ridiculous sort of humor coming over him. “I feel like I’m seventeen again,” he whispered, “and my dad just caught me sneaking back into the house after a party.”   
  
“I wouldn’t have taken you for the type,” Andrew chuckled around his cigarette as they walked to the door together. “Sneaking out, going to parties. You’re going to be a terrible influence on me, I can see that now.”

The flashlight belonged to a young man in a security guard uniform, looking so prim that Theodore was willing to bet that he spent nearly an hour ironing every morning just to make sure that all the creases were perfect. “I should have known it’d be you. How many times do I have to tell you that the designated smoking area is  _behind_  the building?”

“Colin! Good to see you again,” Andrew said, falsely cheerful as he blew a puff of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Have you met my friend Theodore?”   
“Just get back into the hospital,” Colin said, frowning as Andrew stubbed out his cigarette on the side of the building and stuffed it into his pocket. “And I’m writing you up this time; the head of security doesn’t want people up here at all.”   
  
“The head of security needs to loosen up,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes as he and Theodore went into the elevator. “Bunch of useless rent-a-cops,” he muttered, jamming the button for the ground floor. Turning his attention to Theodore, he smiled. “Next week I switch back to days. Why don’t we go on a real date? Dinner and a movie?” As the doors on the elevator slid open, Theodore and Andrew ducked out to make room for a doctor and a patient in a wheelchair.   
  
“A real date sounds good; I’m looking forward to the experience of going out with you when I have the use of both my hands. It should be novel,” Theodore said with a smirk, trying not to laugh at the huff of annoyance from the receptionist as they passed her.   
  
“Kinky,” Andrew said, grinning, bending down to kiss Theodore on the cheek. “Thanks for coming,” he whispered. “I needed…I don’t know, something. You.”   
  
Smiling, Theodore ran his fingertips across Andrew’s jaw, pressing his thumb lightly against a spot where Andrew had nicked himself with a razor, somewhat overwhelmed by the outpouring of clingy affection, but at the same time feeling giddily pleased that he would be the only one to get close enough to Andrew to realize he’d cut himself shaving. “I’ll text you when I get home,” he said, lightly kissing his chin before leaving the hospital.   
  
After changing, before going to sleep, he laid down with his phone and wrote at least three drafts before settling on a message to send to Andrew.

_Sometimes I think I might just need you too._


	7. Chapter 7

Painting at Corvus was always an interesting experience. The café only closed four days a year, and Theodore had never actually been asked to come in to paint on one of them. Instead, the benches were moved away from the window, circled around him like a barrier as he worked, and business continued as usual.

The very act of painting always felt awkward. Theodore didn’t do it regularly anymore; even in college he preferred digital art, but the gig at Corvus paid well, and there was something to be said about the meditative focus required in doing these murals, and how without them, Theodore would have probably been miserable in Portland.

The first time he came to Corvus it was in the middle of one of the worst episodes of insomnia he’d had since moving. It was noon, and he’d slept no more than four hours in the past seventy-two. He was wandering the streets, sick of work, sick of his apartment, and sick of himself when he stopped in front of Corvus, wondering why anyone would name a coffee shop after a constellation. He stood out there so long that the owner, a tanned blond with more tattoos on his arms than Theodore had on his whole body, came outside and ushered him in, offering a cup of the roast of the day in the strongest Spanish accent Theodore had heard since leaving L.A.

They sat down at a table together, sipping from giant mugs, and Theodore spilled everything out in a flood of exasperation and sleeplessness: his father, Thomas, the big empty apartment and the lack of work, the prospect of needing to move back in with his mother in Nevada just to get by, and of course, the most important, the lack of sleep. Once it was all out he just curled up, knees to his chest, staring at his hands as Zev tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

The man was smooth; after explaining that Corvus  _wasn’t_  named after the constellation, but praising Theodore for a good guess, he didn’t miss a beat before bringing up the fact that he needed help, and asking what kind of work Theodore did. After an hour, two cups of coffee, and a half dozen napkins covered with sketched logo designs, Zev picked out one of them and promised him a gig, saying with a smirk that it wouldn’t fix  _all_  of his problems, but a little work never hurt. He then sent Theodore home with a to-go cup and told him to come back when he’d slept and had a solid design. He’d been coming to Corvus ever since.

Now he was standing on a bench, stretching to reach the top of the window as he sketched with his grease pencil, laying down lines for the sunset, the bridge, and the Portland skyline. He’d been there since early morning, scraping off the old mural from Valentine’s Day and wiping down the window with alcohol. The morning crowd regarded him with suspicious indifference, only caring that he was there because he was disrupting their routine, but when the café filled up around lunchtime, Theodore had a fairly devoted audience watching him intently as he laid down the first splashes of color.

He was crouching now, painting water and shore, so focused that he didn’t notice Andrew coming through the door. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he jolted, getting paint on his hands and immediately rubbing it onto his face as he brushed back a loose strand of hair.

“As always, you outdo yourself, Theodore.” Zev was standing behind him, saying his name like it was something poetic and melodic, looking flashy and stylish even in comparison to the unique decor. Zev never wore the unofficial uniform of polo and slacks, and was instead wearing a well-fitted three-piece suit, all black, a shiny red tie tucked neatly into his vest. “I think that I will have to lock you into an exclusivity contract after this one, I would not want every café in Portland trying to replicate my success by stealing my artist.”

“I’ll sign a non-compete contract, if you want,” Theodore said, putting down his brush as he stood, stretching and cracking his back. “But you’re the only place in town that’s wanted me to do any work for them, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”   
  
“One can never be too careful; it is a cutthroat business, this.” Zev put a hand on Theodore’s shoulder and ushered him away from the window. “Come, you have been working for hours. Sit, and have a cup of coffee.”

As they approached Theodore’s preferred spot in the corner, he recognized Andrew by his stance, heavy on the left foot while he dug around in his pocket for his wallet. “Excuse me a moment, Zev,” Theodore said with a smile, and wormed his way into the line, apologizing to a tall brunette with a stroller and wild purple eyeshadow, putting his arm around Andrew’s waist and stretching to kiss his cheek.   
  
“Hey!” Andrew ducked a bit to make it easier for him, grinning widely. “I saw you painting, but I didn’t want to bother you.” He rubbed at the blue smudge on Theodore’s cheek. “I was going to get you some coffee, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to sleep in between now and later tonight. We’re still on for dinner and a movie, right?”

“Yeah, I’m not going to be able to finish this today, Zev’s fine with that, so I’ll come back sometime tomorrow and do the detail work.” Theodore tilted his head in the direction of Zev, who was leaning on the counter to talk to one of the employees, a tall man with delicate features and wide brown eyes, dark vines tattooed on his neck. “That’s Zev, the owner? He’s pretty flexible about these kind of things.”

“I’ll bet he is,” Andrew scoffed, handing his credit card to the woman behind the counter. “Is he always like that with you?”   
  
“Like what?” Theodore raised a brow and took the coffee, thanking the woman as she handed it to him.

“Like he’s about two minutes from sticking his tongue down your throat,” Andrew sat next to Theodore on the bench, putting an arm around his shoulder and resting a foot on his knee. “He was flirting with you, I’m only surprised he just put his hand on your shoulder rather than grabbing your ass.”   
  
Theodore shrugged, cupping the mug in both hands. “That’s just Zev; watch him talk to customers for a bit and you’ll see what I mean. Besides, according to Sig, he’s sleeping with Aiden, that’s who he was just talking to, the guy with the red hair and neck tattoos.” Andrew grumbled into his cup of coffee, and Theodore laughed. “You’re lucky I find jealousy kind of cute, because you’re being an ass.”

“I still think I’m right.” Andrew grunted into his cup when Theodore elbowed him.   
  
“You cut yourself shaving again.” Theodore brushed his hand over that small cut on his chin, noticing an indentation and pressing a fingertip against it. “I never realized you had a scar down here before, what’s that from?”

Andrew rubbed his chin, brushing Theodore’s hand away. “Accident a few years ago. Nothing serious.” He stuffed his hand in his pocket and pulled out his beeper, staring at it momentarily. “Dammit.” Setting the mug on the table in front of them, he kissed Theodore on the cheek again and stood. “I’m needed, apparently. I’ll meet you at the theater at seven?”

Theodore waved as Andrew slunk out of the coffee shop, hands in his pockets, dodging to avoid the woman with the stroller as she tried to get out at the same time. He finished the coffee, both cups, before returning to the mural, working until his lower back started to ache and he decided that he had to put the paints away for the day. At home, he realized that the blue smudge of paint wasn’t coming off, not without some kind of solvent, and gave up on trying to remove it after his cheek was scrubbed red and the paint had barely started to fade. He went with it, finding an old blue button-down in his closet and putting that on instead of his standard sweatshirt.  

There was a fairly long line outside of the theater, and Theodore waited somewhat to the side of it, watching couples and groups funnel in. It was a popular place; mostly because each projection screen was surrounded by comfortable booths and tables instead of tiny bucket seats. There was also the novel appeal of a theater that served dinner and ten different beers on tap, but it wasn’t really the type of place that someone went alone. Since his socializing in Portland had been restricted to hanging out in coffee shops and bars, Theodore had never been.

It was strange to think that this was the type of person he was again, the type that went out on dates and chided lovers for being jealous. The type that not only noticed the scars, but worried about them, feeling that weird sorrow in the pit of his stomach in knowing that someone he was beginning to care for had been hurt in the past, and there was nothing he could do about that. The kind that felt a tingle of excitement in his belly every time he saw dirty blond hair in a small ponytail, and a flood of warmth at a familiar crooked smile.

He waved Andrew over, hugging him, kissing him lightly with chilly lips, only smiling at the curious eyebrow and the thumb brushing against that streak of paint as he stood with him in line amongst the other couples. It all felt so damn normal that Theodore thought he just might laugh, looking at them from the outside, the tall blond and the short redhead, imagining how he was supposed to explain to people how they met.  _I threw a brick, broke my arm, and it just went from there, fairly standard first date, really._

The booths were comfortable, and large enough for Theodore to put his legs up on them and stretch out, leaning against Andrew’s shoulder, paging through the menu while previews for thrillers and romantic comedies droned in the background.   
  
“I want to see that one,” Andrew said, and when Theodore glanced up from the menu there was a preview for some epic romance, complete with dramatic music and close-ups of the handsome hero and the beautiful heroine.   
  
“I thought you liked horror and suspense.”

“I do, but I want to see it anyway.” Andrew wrapped an arm around Theodore and settled in. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? The only reason I suggested that we come here as opposed to the theater closer to your place was the beer and food, I can still get in line.”   
  
“I think the seating arrangements present a good argument for coming here,” Theodore said, making himself comfortable, his ear pressed so firmly against Andrew’s chest that he could hear his heart beating. Andrew laughed softly, kindly, and combed his fingers through Theodore’s hair, curling a long tendril around his forefinger absently as the movie started.

Between the sensation of Andrew’s fingers in his hair, which was always soothing, the slow throb of heartbeat in his ear, and the general exhaustion from a long work day, Theodore didn’t have a chance; he fell asleep immediately after the movie started, only waking when the lights were coming back up, Andrew shaking him lightly.   
  
“Oh. Shit. Did I sleep through the whole thing?” Theodore sat up, cracking his neck, yawning into the back of his forearm as he squinted up at Andrew.

“Yeah, you didn’t miss much though,” Andrew said, ruffling his hair lightly. “You should have told me you were so tired, we could have rescheduled.”   
  
“I wasn’t tired until we got here.” Theodore stood, stiff and sleepy, letting Andrew wrap an arm around his waist and herd him out of the theater, leaning on him. “Is your place fairly close?” He asked once they got outside, feeling as though if they stopped walking long enough he might just drift off again.

Andrew nodded, tapping out a cigarette and putting it between his lips. “I’m two blocks from here, why?”   
  
“I was just thinking that you’ve been to my place a dozen times, and I’ve never seen yours.” Theodore took his free hand and laced their fingers, affectionate in his exhaustion.   
  
“You’re going to be seriously disappointed in my apartment, but we can go if you want.” After four tries to light his cigarette he sighed, and tossed both the cigarette and the lighter into a nearby trash can. “You look dead on your feet though, are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home and get some sleep?”

“Well, the idea was that, instead of going home to curl up in that big bed, all by my lonesome, that maybe we could snuggle a little bit and I could sleep in  _your_  bed, with you,” Theodore said, giving Andrew a playful smirk when he stopped walking and looked down at him.

“I didn’t realize we were…there,” Andrew said, rubbing the back of his neck slowly, licking his lips when Theodore squeezed his hand. “I want to do this right…”   
  
Theodore shrugged, still holding his hand. “We haven’t done any of this right, but it works anyway.” He tilted his head back, looking up at the sky, the stars obscured by light pollution and clouds. “I just kind of want to sleep next to you tonight.”

“I’d…really like that. But I’m honestly afraid that you won’t fit.” Andrew laughed sheepishly, rubbing his mouth when Theodore raised a brow at him. “I have a tiny futon, I’m serious! My feet hang off the edge if I’m not careful.”   
  
“You have seen how tall I am in comparison to you, right?” Theodore asked, smirking as they started walking again. “I was trying to keep it a secret, but I’m not actually a very large man.”

“You laugh, but you’ll see,” Andrew said, somewhat ominously, and they continued to walk in relative silence, Andrew’s hand warm in Theodore’s, only letting him go when they reached a row of apartments. He dug a small set of keys out of his pocket and twirled them around until he found the right one. “I’m warning you, it’s not impressive. It’s clean, but…nothing I’d admit to being proud of.” With that, he opened the door and flicked on the light just inside.

Theodore took a step into the cramped studio, kicking off his shoes out of habit and looking around, not that there was much to see. “It’s uh, cozy,” he said with a weak laugh, stepping out of the way so that Andrew could pass him and close the door. There was a door leading to a bathroom, but otherwise the entire apartment was comprised of one room that was no larger than Theodore’s bedroom. The futon, shoved into one of the corners under a window, was as small as Andrew said it was, and Theodore found himself glancing between the bed and the man, wondering how he slept there every night without waking up with his spine stiff and knotted. There was a steamer trunk at the end of the bed, and an old, threadbare quilt lying on top of that. Other than that, there was very little in the apartment.

“I don’t have a lot of people over,” Andrew said, smiling weakly as he hung his coat in the closet. “So…do you still want to stay?”   
  
Theodore crossed the small room and sat down on the edge of the futon, testing out the firmness. “I think I might. Why don’t you come here and see if this works?” Theodore stretched out, scooting towards the wall so that Andrew could lay down next to him, trying not to laugh as the springs creaked under the added weight when he sat. “You need to get a nicer bed,” he said, turning over so that his back was facing Andrew.

“I know. I’ve never had…mmm, I didn’t expect to be bringing people home.” Andrew slipped an arm around Theodore’s waist and curled up behind him. “I think we just fit,” he said softly, kissing the back of his neck over his collar. “Do you want a t-shirt to sleep in, or something?” He slid off the bed when Theodore nodded, rummaging around in his closet and pulling out a long t-shirt, tossing it to him before disappearing into the bathroom.   
  
Theodore undressed, folding his clothes and piling them on the trunk, staring at the sparse furnishings and lack of decoration, furrowing his brows at the utter lack of anything that looked personal other than the quilt on the steamer trunk. He tugged the shirt over his head, huffing in annoyance as it slid down one shoulder, so long that it hit him mid-thigh and looked vaguely like a dress or a nightgown.

He sat on that tiny bed, feeling smaller than he had in a long time, swimming in Andrew’s shirt, smelling like his detergent and just a bit like cigarette smoke, and having this last minute twinge of something, of regret, of sadness, of  _what the hell am I doing? I’m 32 years old and I still feel like I’m sneaking out to see my high school boyfriend._  Then Andrew came out of the bathroom in his boxers, his shaggy hair hanging around his face, smelling like mouthwash and looking at him like he was best thing he’d ever seen, and that twinge disappeared.

“That’s huge on you,” Andrew said, smiling, sitting down with him, trying valiantly to tug one of the sleeves up but quickly losing that battle. “Sometimes you’re so goddamn cute that I just want to pick you up and squeeze you. Maybe more than sometimes,” he said softly, brushing Theodore’s hair out of his face and kissing the blue smudge.

Theodore tilted his head to catch his lips, wanting to be annoyed at being called cute, wanting to be annoyed by the tiny bed and the chill emanating from the wall, but finding only warm lips, and a sweet tongue, and the perfect weight of laying back, half underneath him, wrapping arms around his bare shoulders and kissing him until he was gasping for air.   
  
“I don’t like to be picked up,” he said finally when they parted, curling against Andrew’s chest as they settled together, closing his eyes when Andrew covered them up with a blanket and kissed him on the head. “But I like to be held, a lot more than I’d let on.”

As he drifted to off to sleep, listening to the soft thunk of the plumbing in the thin walls, feeling the rise and fall of Andrew’s chest under his hand and against his cheek, he was inexplicably happy that the bed was small and that Andrew was far too big for it, because it meant that they had to sleep in this curled up pile of limbs and hair and shirts that didn’t fit. It reminded him how much feeling small felt like being loved, and how long it had been since he’d really felt either.


	8. Chapter 8

Waking, like falling asleep, involves a certain amount of skill, especially when one is doing it in an unfamiliar place, and even more so when one is waking with another person. The warm pressure of Andrew’s weight, coupled with the fact that he was lightly but steadily snoring, made Theodore conscious of his surroundings before his eyes opened. Light was streaming in through the small window above the futon, and Theodore squinted his closed eyes against it, burying his face into Andrew’s bare chest to block it out.

Though he recalled falling asleep on his side, curled up against Andrew’s chest, he was on his back and underneath him, completely pinned against the mattress. As he groggily woke, delicately stretching out one arm under the pillows, flexing his hand until the pins and needles stopped, he made a mental checklist.  _Can I get up without waking or otherwise disturbing Andrew? No. Is this one of those mornings where I have an inexplicable erection? Of course. Is Andrew on **top**  of said erection? Yes. Do I care if I wake or otherwise disturb Andrew? Yes. Exactly how long am I willing to lay here, squished but kind of enjoying it, before I need to get up?_

He didn’t have an answer for the last question he posed to himself, so he wrapped his loose arm around Andrew’s shoulders and snuggled in, trying not to make too much out of the fact that this was the first night in months he’d slept so soundly that he didn’t wake up a dozen times, staring at the ceiling and wondering why it was so difficult to get a good night’s rest. Theodore dozed, drifting in and out of consciousness, eyes slowly opening when he felt Andrew moving off of him.

“Hey gorgeous,” Andrew said in a soft, thick tone, propping himself up on an elbow and giving Theodore some room to move. Theodore stretched, shimmying down the futon so that he could raise his arms over his head, pushing Andrew’s t-shirt up around his belly as he did.  **  
  
**“I’m not gorgeous; I have morning breath and my hair is probably one big, red knot.” Theodore groaned when his back cracked in the middle of his stretch. He stopped moving, and just laid there with his legs bent at the knees and his arms above his head, looking up at Andrew. From this angle, that scar on his chin looked a lot worse than it did when Theodore first discovered it, and he raised a hand to touch it again, gently stroking up Andrew’s neck and pushing his thumb against the scar.  
  
“Nosy,” Andrew said, tilting his head out of Theodore’s hand. He laid back, next to Theodore, stroking his chin slowly. “One of my exes had a bad temper.” Andrew sighed, raking back his hair and resting his head on his hand. “I pissed him off and he shoved me. I ended up hitting my head on the kitchen counter, right on the edge. My chin split open and I had to go to the hospital to get it stitched up.” Andrew stretched over the side of the bed and grabbed his phone, checking the clock, pressing his lips together when Theodore put a hand on his arm. “It’s not that big of a deal, Theo.”

Theodore gently cupped Andrew’s cheek and turned his head, pressing his lips firmly to that scar on his chin. He felt Andrew’s Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed hard, and moved to kiss that too. “It is a big deal. Thank you for trusting me with it.” He felt Andrew’s fingers in his hair, gentle and hesitant. “I want to know these kinds of things; but only when you want to tell me.” Andrew nodded, resting his forehead against Theodore’s, a small smile hovering in the corners of his mouth.   
  
“Do you want some breakfast? There’s a place right on the corner that does take-out, I’ve got a menu in the kitchen.”   
  
“That’s not a kitchen,” Theodore said with a wrinkle of his nose, sitting up so that Andrew could do the same. He crossed his legs and rested his back against the wall, bundling up in the blanket as Andrew stood and stretched, scratching his belly.   
  
“It has a microwave and a fridge; it’s close enough.” Crossing the small room to the kitchenette, he slid open a drawer and pawed around in it until he found a tri-folded menu, then brought it back to Theodore where he sat on the bed. “They have great coffee, and they let you buy this big plastic to-go pots.”

Theodore scanned the menu. “Do you have to work today?”   
  
“Nope, I have today and tomorrow off. I’m meeting up with some friends tomorrow, but I’ll be free at night if you want to go do something.” Andrew rummaged through his closet, finding a pair of jeans and tugging them on. “I know you have to finish up at Corvus today,” he said, returning to the bed with a sweater over his arm. “But let me be a little selfish and keep you for a few more hours, hmm?” Theodore nodded, handing him the menu. “You know what you want?”   
  
“Pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream,” he said, thinking that if he felt so damn young around Andrew he might as well go with it. “And lots of coffee.”   
  
“I think I can manage that.” Andrew pulled the sweater over his head and combed his hair back with his fingers. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, okay.” He bent and kissed Theodore on the forehead before slipping on a pair of old sandals from the closet and leaving.

Theodore would have explored the apartment, but there wasn’t much to explore. There was an old television sitting precariously on a shelf across from the bed, the remote sitting on the small table that served as a nightstand. Theodore turned it on, stretching out on Andrew’s tiny bed, watching the news while wondering why he had such a cramped, unpleasant place, feeling fairly certain that nurses weren’t that underpaid. But somehow it was nice to have slept like that, curled up tightly, half underneath him, in a bed that smelled so much like him that just sitting it in made him feel that same deep, slow burn that he did when they kissed, or when he answered the phone and heard Andrew’s voice on the other end.   
  
He toyed with his cell phone while Andrew was gone, looking at the short list of names, mostly friends from L.A. and Nevada. He quickly called Corvus to let Zev know that he’d be back to finish up the mural in the afternoon, and, after hanging up, stared sullenly at one number—Thomas’. It was one of those things; he wanted to delete it, but then if the bastard ever called, he wouldn’t know who it was. With it programmed into his phone, he could ignore a call from him, but in reality, he hadn’t called since Theodore left, and all that number did was make him uncomfortable when he scrolled past it.   
  
He deleted it, feeling strange as he clicked the conformation dialogue and it was gone, erased from his life, as if it were that simple.

The door to the apartment opened and Andrew stepped through, carrying a paper bag and a jug with the restaurant’s name emblazoned on the side. “They told me that they were out of whipped cream,” Andrew said as he handed Theodore the bag, setting the coffee down on the trunk and going to the kitchen for mugs. “But I told them it was the most important part of the whole order, and they went and found some more in the back.” He returned with silverware and mismatched cups, handing Theodore the one with a Christmas tree on it while keeping the one with the cat for himself.   
  
“Should I just sit here and eat?” Theodore asked, holding out his mug as Andrew poured.   
  
“You can sit on the floor if you want, otherwise it’s the bed or the trunk. I never bothered to buy a table.” He sat down on the trunk and took the bag from Theodore, lifting out one paper tray and peeking into it, then setting it aside and returning the bag.   
  
“Aren’t you uncomfortable here?” Theodore opened up the carry-out tray and folded the lid underneath, propping himself on the wall near the trunk, gently moving the bedraggled quilt to the side and setting his coffee down.

“I’m rarely here,” Andrew said with a shrug, sitting on the edge of the trunk, balancing the tray on his lap as he opened a small packet of hot sauce with his teeth. “I obviously don’t cook, and I spend 90% of my time at the hospital anyway. It didn’t make a lot of sense to get a really nice place like yours. You’re the first person I’ve had over for more than a few minutes.” He shook the packet over his eggs, squeezing it into a little knot before tossing it back into the bag. **  
  
** “How long ago did you move from L.A.?” Theodore started on the pancakes, giving Andrew a curious glance when he leaned over and used his thumb to catch a bit of whipped cream that had somehow made it onto his nose.   
  
“Well, I moved from L.A. about four years ago, but I sort of…bounced up the coastline after that. I spent a year in Monterey, then two in San Francisco, before coming up here.” Andrew put his thumb to his lips, sucking on the pad of it thoughtfully. “For a while I was just sick of staying in one place, and after…” Andrew paused and shook his head. “After busting up my chin I just wanted to get out of California. I sold a lot of my stuff and just…” He shrugged, turning to his food.

Theodore poked absently at a strawberry with his fork, setting the tray down in his lap. “You wanted a fresh start, I get that. Where in L.A. did you live?”   
  
“Brentwood; my parents had money, and when I got sick they wanted me to be seen by the best doctors that money could buy.” Andrew shifted, picking up his mug and blowing on the hot coffee within. “Have you been to L.A.?”   
  
“I lived in West Hollywood for seven years.”   
  
“Wait, how old are you?” Andrew shifted, looking askance at Theodore, setting his tray down so that he could refill his coffee cup.   
  
“I’ll be thirty-three in September,” Theodore smirked. “You thought I was in my early twenties, didn’t you?”   
  
“Maybe…you don’t really look—”   
  
Theodore raised a hand at him and shook his head. “I’ve heard it all before, everything from arguments about how I’d look 10 years older if I cut my hair, to suggestions on how to dress so I look my age. It doesn’t really matter to me.” Andrew chuckled, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Doesn’t matter to me either,” Andrew said, brushing his nose against Theodore’s, laughing when Theo pushed him away.   
  
“Oh god, what the hell are you eating?” Theodore laughed as Andrew tried to climb on top of him, lifting his pancakes out of the way as Andrew straddled his lap, playfully nipping at his lip. “You smell awful, get off,” Theodore said, giving him a half-hearted push as Andrew brushed his fingertips over Theo’s temples, pushing his hair back over his ears. “You’re awfully big to be sitting in my lap like that,” he said, resting his hands on Andrew’s hips as he lowered himself against Theodore’s legs. Andrew tucked Theo’s hair back, and dropped his head to kiss one of his ears. His hand snaked around Theodore’s neck as he moved his lips across his cheek, settling lightly on his mouth.

Andrew rubbed at that blue smudge on Theodore’s cheek, smiling when he leaned into his hand, moving to kiss his other cheek. Theodore caught his lips, sliding his hands up Andrew’s sides, under his sweater, feeling hot skin under his fingers. He ran them up Andrew’s spine, kissing his chin lightly, finding that scar and dragging his tongue very lightly across it, pushing his head back with his nose and biting down, soothing the spot with lips and tongue, and relishing the shiver he felt run down Andrew’s skin.   
  
“I don’t think I’m too big for your lap,” Andrew said, brushing his lips down Theodore’s chin. “I kind of like this arrangement.” He nuzzled into Theodore’s neck, dragging his cheek against his soft skin, pressing his lips firmly to his skin to feel his pulse fluttering underneath it.  
  
“Andrew,” Theodore said, low and thick, licking his lips when the sensation stopped and Andrew’s head popped up so he could look him in the eyes. “You make me crazy, you know that?” He asked softly, pressing his lips gently to Andrew’s nose.   
  
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”   
  
“Both.”


	9. Chapter 9

Things changed after that night in Andrew’s tiny apartment. There were subtle shifts, ones measured in minor degrees, like how Andrew suddenly had a dozen pet names for Theodore, ranging from the mundane  _babe_  and  _baby_ , to the inexplicable  _Teddy bear_  and  _coffee bean_ , or how pecks on the cheek had been replaced by long, lingering kisses on the lips, and how Theodore’s fingers laced tightly with Andrew’s when they walked together. Then there were big changes. Suddenly Andrew was sleeping over at Theodore’s house four to six nights a week, spread out on Theo’s big, comfortable bed, sometimes pressed up against Theodore’s back, one arm tightly around his waist, or half on top of him, pinning him, but mostly just there, murmuring and snoring lightly in his sleep.

Neither of them initiated it; there were no conversations about how often Andrew could stay, or what kind of boundaries he needed to obey while he was there. It just felt right, and it quickly became apparent that it made a difference in how well Theodore slept. After a week, Andrew commented on how the dark circles under his eyes had faded, and after a month they were completely gone. It made little sense, but Theodore had to admit that he was sleeping better, and that having the sensation of another person in bed with him was a contributing factor in that change.   
  
Andrew’s birthday came and went with little fanfare. Theodore bought him a new lighter, a nice one, brushed stainless steel with replaceable flint, and, after cheesecake and Irish coffee at Corvus, Theodore gave him the kiss he wanted and many, many more. As weeks passed and summer started to release its hold on Portland, making room for the rain and cooler nights of fall, Theodore felt a lot less like he and Andrew were dating and a lot more like they were in a serious relationship. They were starting to really know one another; learning when the other needed to be left alone, and when doing so would be detrimental, learning likes and dislikes to the point of knowing exactly when to change the channel on the radio or television, and getting to understand the small things, the quirky ones, and the ones that weren’t particularly endearing, but were inexplicably parts of the whole.

One night, while using chopsticks to eat take-out Chinese food out of the boxes with varying levels of success, and sitting on opposite ends of Theodore’s couch, legs tangled in the middle, the conversation turned to one of the few things they had in common in their past: Los Angeles.   
  
“Did you ever go to the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica?” Andrew asked, fishing around in the paper container for a shrimp and picking it up by the tail. It was a warm, muggy night, and Andrew had come over straight from the hospital again. The front window was open, but the shades were mostly drawn, a cool breeze funneled into the room by a rotating fan. Andrew sat in nothing but the bottoms of his scrubs, insinuating his feet into Theodore’s lap, sliding them up his smooth legs until they reached his bare thighs. Theodore was in a tank top and his boxers, his long hair piled into a bun, falling in wispy tendrils around his face as he ate, making it necessary for him to eventually excuse himself to bobby pin the whole mess up.    
  
“A few times,” Theodore said, wriggling backwards away from Andrew’s feet. “I used to really like eating at Leconda del Lago, but I didn’t get out there very often.”

“West Hollywood isn’t that far, and from what I remember it’s not a super expensive place, why didn’t you go more often?” Andrew wormed a foot under Theodore’s leg as he dug through the carton, picking out a water chestnut and fumbling with his chopsticks, raising an annoyed brow as it tumbled back into the box.   
  
Theodore wrinkled his nose as he chewed. “My ex, the one I lived with? He didn’t like it. Did you ever eat there?”   
  
“I think I went on four first dates there,” Andrew said, laughing, switching boxes with Theodore and stuffing his chopsticks into the noodles. “You ate all of the pork out of this.”   
  
“You ate all of the shrimp,” Theodore said with a shrug. “Four first dates, really?”   
  
“Oh yeah, people from Brentwood don’t know where to go on a date, apparently; it was always Santa Monica or restaurant row in Beverly Hills. Maybe that was just the people I was dating though.”    
  
“Sounds like you dated a lot,” Theodore said cautiously, fishing out a piece of bok choy and biting down on it, cursing under his breath when it slipped out of his chopsticks and escaped back into the carton.

“My twenties were a whirlwind of romance and debauchery.”   
  
“You’re still in your twenties.”  
  
“My  _early_  twenties, then.”   
  
“So…exactly how much debauchery was there?” Theodore asked, setting the carton down on the coffee table and picking up his beer, his expression hard to read as he put the bottle to his lips and tilted it.

“That’s a loaded question,” Andrew said, frowning into the carton before lowering it into his lap. “Are you worried about STDs? I just had a blood test this year—I’m clean; I’m always safe, and even when I wasn’t in the medical field, I was always aware of the risks of…well…debauchery.”   
  
“I wasn’t really worried about that,” Theodore finished off his beer and slid off the couch, taking both his and Andrew’s empty bottles into the kitchen, coming back with two cold bottles from the fridge. “I just…I’m curious about your past relationships. I only know about the guy in San Francisco who—” Theodore paused and put the cool bottle to his forehead, sighing at the heat, backpedaling. “I only know about the one, and it sounds like there were, well, more than that.”   
  
“That’s fair.” Andrew sat the bottle on the coffee table and sat up, crossing his legs underneath him. “So, do you want to just know people I was serious with, or people I slept with?”

“Is the list all that different?” Theodore asked with a raise of his brow, immediately regretting the line of questioning and pondering how strange Andrew would find it if he dropped the subject and suggested they watch  _Twilight Zone_  reruns instead.

“I wasn’t kidding about the whirlwind of debauchery,” Andrew said with a chuckle, lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching his shoulders. “If you want to talk about dating, seriously dating, I’d say…twenty, twenty-one people, if you count you. As for people I slept with but wasn’t serious about? I’d say…maybe ten?”  
  
“That’s…a pretty big number,” Theodore said slowly, trying not to give away exactly how much that shocked him, clearing his throat awkwardly and going back to the food. He fumbled with his chopsticks, wondering if he’d even met thirty people he’d want to sleep with, much less start serious relationships with over half of them.  
  
“It bothers you.” Andrew took a quiet sip of his beer, pursing his lips like it was bitter.   
  
“No, no. I’m just surprised.” Theodore managed to find a shrimp in the container that he thought Andrew had picked clean and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, using the time to think. “You’re a lot more outgoing than I am, so I guess it makes sense…I’m just really…I’m four years older than you and I’ve only been with three men, not including you.”   
  
“No women?” Andrew asked curiously, leaning over the table to grab one of the fortune cookies from the take-out bag, cracking it open and pulling out the small slip of paper.  
  
“No, uh, you have? I guess I assumed you were gay,” Theodore rubbed the back of his neck, feeling sheepish and awkward on top of sweltering in the sticky heat.

“I’ve never really felt like gender mattered, obviously you’re attracted to whoever you’re attracted to, but for me…” Andrew shrugged, smiling. “Does that bother you?”   
  
“What? No, of course not.” Theodore finished the contents of the paper container and set it aside, absently gnawing on the end of one of his chopsticks. “Are you upset that we haven’t, y’know, done…anything…since that first night?” Theodore slid his legs off the couch, sitting on the edge of it as he picked up a fortune cookie and cracked it open, setting the fortune to the side and busting the cookie into smaller pieces to eat it.   
  
“No,” Andrew said, sincere and without hesitation. “I like sex, but I’m a grown man and I can take care of myself.” He sat up as well, sliding next to Theodore and putting an arm around his shoulder. “You’re special.” He brushed his lips against Theo’s sweaty forehead. “I’m willing to wait for you.” He pulled Theodore in tighter when he dropped his head. “Besides, I know you’re interested in sex, you’re just not ready, right?” Theodore nodded. “If you weren’t interested at all, we’d have some compatibility issues, but I know you just need some time, and that’s okay.”

Theodore cupped Andrew’s cheek and kissed him on the chin, smiling though his eyes were downcast. “You’re the first person I’ve felt this comfortable with since Thomas, and I’m still sorting stuff out from my relationship with him, so…the fact that you’re willing to be patient means a lot to me.”   
  
“Do you remember that night on the roof of the hospital, during the meteor shower?” Andrew asked, letting go of Theodore and stretching out on the couch, patting the empty space next to him in invitation. Abandoning his fortune cookie, Theodore laid down with him, back to his chest, resting his hand on the arm that Andrew snaked around his waist. “I fuck things up—a lot. Most of my relationships have only been like, four to six months long because I did something wrong. I got attached too fast, or I was too distant, or I was too flirtatious or not enough or…I don’t know.” He sighed, his breath hot on Theodore’s shoulder. “I honestly don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m trying, I really am.” He worked his jaw, pressing his nose into Theodore’s shoulder. “I’m jealous, you know, that you had a relationship that lasted so long. It sounds like you two really had…something. Why did you…?”

Though it was too sticky and too hot, Theodore curled in closer, squeezing Andrew’s hand as he spoke, relishing every word, saving them, storing them for later so he could process when he didn’t feel so comfortable and half-drunk and entirely too fond of Andrew, regardless of how much he claimed to fuck up. “He cheated on me.”   
  
“After seven years? Jesus Christ.” Andrew frowned, and tightened his grip as he kissed Theodore’s shoulder, nuzzling against dark tattoo.   
  
“There wasn’t any warning either, I just…I picked up his phone to order pizza and there were all these text messages from some woman named Maria. It was pretty obvious what was going on.” He closed his eyes as the fan oscillated towards them, the circulating air making the living room only marginally cooler than the rest of the house. “We got in this huge fight, and he made it seem like it was my fault. I packed up and left that night.”  
  
“I would have too. Seven fucking years.” Andrew pressed his face into Theodore’s shoulder, thinking for a long, silent moment. “I’m sorry, but I’m kind of glad. I never would have met you if you were still in L.A.”   
  
“Last year I would have been horrified if someone said that they were happy he cheated on me.”   
  
“That’s not—”

“But I understand,” Theodore said, low and sweet, lifting Andrew’s hand to his mouth and pressing his lips slow and soft against his fingers. “This isn’t how things were supposed to go. I had everything planned out, and, you know, I had it. I had the great relationship, I had the savings account and the circle of good friends. I was happy.” Theodore felt a lump rising in his throat and swallowed it, staring at his hand in Andrew’s, cataloging the differences, like the fact that Andrew’s hand was so much larger, and how his nails were neatly clipped and filed while Theo’s were chewed to the quick. Andrew’s hands were rough, long-fingered and scarred, the ring finger on his right hand sitting at a strange angle from some childhood accident he couldn’t remember. They fit over his, his fingers laced just so, and the pads of his thumbs knew just how to stroke his jaw when he was frustrated and tired.   
  
“Do I make you happy?” Andrew’s voice was tentative and quiet as he murmured into the back of Theodore’s shoulder, sounding very much as if he wasn’t sure that he wanted the answer to that question. He let go of Andrew’s hand and twisted around, shifting his fingers through Andrew’s loose hair and kissing him on the temple.   
  
“It’s ninety-five degrees, I’m lying on a leather sofa with you, and I let you have all the shrimp.” Theodore smiled into Andrew’s skin. “I’m also compelled to say silly things about how you have a handsome nose.”   
  
Andrew laughed, pressing his face into Theodore’s slim arm, closing his eyes as Theodore held him there. “You could have put a sheet on the couch.”   
  
“It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?” Theodore stroked Andrew’s hair fondly, staring absently into space as he got lost in his thoughts. “You make me very happy, Andrew.” Andrew’s fingers pressed firmly to his chin, and he tilted his head to meet his mouth, kissing him slowly, breathing deep and relaxed through his nose.   
  
“Same here, coffee bean,” he said when they parted, “same here.”  

  * [Jul 20, 2012 9:35 am](http://moodymarshmallow.tumblr.com/post/27633163141/always-cloudy-9-fanfiction)
  * [2 Notes](http://moodymarshmallow.tumblr.com/post/27633163141/always-cloudy-9-fanfiction#tumblr_notes)




	10. Chapter 10

Theodore stood in his kitchen, glaring at his coffee machine. It hadn’t done anything wrong; it still worked perfectly, brewing quietly and quickly, filling the house with the scent of his favorite blend from Corvus, but he was annoyed with it all the same. It was a good coffee maker, it did its job, and for the past three years of Theodore’s life it had served as a kind of friend. It was there at three in the morning when he couldn’t sleep and still there at four in the afternoon when he wanted another cup.

It wasn’t enough anymore. There were too many mornings when Theodore woke to Andrew crawling into bed to give him a cup of coffee from the corner café, claiming that the coffee machine was too complicated, or didn’t work, or he couldn’t find the grounds, but Theodore could smell the cigarette on him and knew he went for the walk and the smoke and so that he could surprise Theodore without any appliances waking him up. They’d kiss, and it would taste like mouthwash and tobacco and Theodore would think about just how much he loved that, but only because it was Andrew. They’d lie in bed and drink coffee, and on days when Andrew worked afternoons or nights, they’d stay there for hours in varying levels of wakefulness, just together.

Andrew was working mornings this week, so Theodore was angry at the coffee machine, and the bed, and everything else that didn’t feel right without him there. Nothing was comfortable now that he was used to having someone else with him. Andrew was physical, he was weight and heat, scent and sensation, and he was the contrast between his unshaven chin and sweet lips. It was more than comfort though, it was domesticity and necessity. Theodore did Andrew’s laundry, made him dinner now and then, and Andrew brought groceries and the occasional gift, like whiskey for homemade Irish coffee, or his favorite design magazines. Andrew was an indisputable part of his life now, and Theodore felt out of sorts when he wasn’t there.  

Sitting in the kitchen with his coffee, at the table where he knocked knees with Andrew, Theodore thought again that he should replace it, but was willing to admit that he liked sitting there, bumping into Andrew’s lanky legs, grumbling amicably about how impractical the little table was, and smiling when he inevitably rested his feet on top of Andrew’s. Theodore was arguing with himself, taking it out on inanimate objects, tapping his cell phone to text Andrew, composing a message, then deleting it and shoving the phone back in his pocket, his stomach quivering at what he wanted to say.

_That talk we had, a few weeks ago, well, I think…_  
  
 _Maybe I don’t need as much time as…_  
  
 _I do want you. A lot. More than a lot. Maybe you can get off early and come home because I want to touch you so badly that…_  
  
 _I think I might be in lo—…_

Then he got angry with the coffee maker again, frowning as it hissed at the end of the brewing cycle. The kitchen was pissing him off, so he went into his office, starting work on a mindless design, trying to ignore the weight of the cell phone in his pocket as he drew on his tablet. He set the stylus down after an hour of frustrated scribbling and used his foot to push his chair away from the desk, rolling halfway across the room and spinning away from the computer. He took the cell phone from his pocket again and stared at it, tapping the screen lightly with a fingertip.

“I am thirty-two years old,” Theodore muttered under his breath, tapping the icon for text messaging and waiting for the application to open. “I’ve done this before. I’ve done this a lot. I’m not supposed to be nervous.” Theodore sighed through his nose and sent a message to Andrew, asking him to call before he came home, then hit the backspace key and replaced the word  _home_  with  _over_. He watched the screen as the message sent, staring until it flickered to black as the the power-saving function kicked in.

Too anxious to work, he shoved his phone into his pocket and went for a walk, traveling the same sidewalks and crossing the same streets that he had a thousand times since moving to Portland. They felt strange then, and they felt strange again, because something had changed in him. He didn’t think about Thomas the way he used to; he was there, but as a memory rather than a presence. There was relief in that; there was peace in that, and though he was still tied up in knots over Andrew, they were good knots, ones that ached in the right way, ones that needed a little massaging and soothing to make them right.   
  
Later, back at home, after vowing to ignore any offensive appliances and calming down to a considerably degree, Theodore managed to get some work done. Then the phone rang, and it was Andrew’s ringtone, and he was all knots and tension again, needing those big hands to massage it out.

“Hey babe, did you need something?” On the phone, Andrew’s voice always sounded like it was coming from the other side of the world. It was as if there was something about talking through technology that made him sound like he could have been in China now, getting ready to board a plane. That sense of distance made Theodore uncomfortable.  
  
“Yeah, um, I was wondering if you could pick up a few things on your way over?” Theodore stood and started pacing, nibbling on the pad of his left thumb since his fingernails were too short to bite.   
  
“Sure, what do you need?”

_You._

Theodore licked his lips slowly. “Could you pick up a six pack of that beer I liked the other night? The cherry-wheat stuff?” As he walked into the living room he could hear rustling on the other end of the phone, and he imagined Andrew at his locker, taking off the patron saint medallion. “And some condoms,” he added quietly. The rustling stopped and there was a moment of silence before Andrew spoke up again.   
  
“I think I can manage that.” Theodore swore he could hear Andrew smiling. “I’ll grab some milk too, I used the last of it this morning. Anything else you can think of?”  
  
“I’m not really all that prepared…I mean…fuck, sorry, I’m—”  
  
“Relax. I’ll take care of everything, and when I get home—when I get to your house, we can talk more.”   
  
“Yeah, okay. Sorry, I’m just…I feel like an idiot…” Theodore said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You’re not an idiot.” Andrew’s voice was fond, amused and sweet, and Theodore could hear an announcement over the hospital PA system in the background. He sat down on the couch, curling his legs up to his chest as he squished himself into the corner. “You’re a little high strung, but I think it’s cute—oh, hey! Thanks for the help today Willa, I really appreciate it—sorry, that was my supervisor. So beer, milk, and other various and sundry supplies, do you need anything else?”

Theodore smiled weakly, cupping the phone against his ear. “Just you,” he said, nibbling on his lower lip.   
  
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Theodore heard Andrew saying goodbye to the receptionist before he hung up. He pressed the phone to his chest, ever in awe at Andrew’s inability to ignore those around him. He always had a kind word or a smile, and sometimes Theodore wished he could steal that ability to open up and spread out. He wanted it more than he could put into words.  
  
He set the phone down and slid off the couch, taking the time to shower, standing under scalding water until his pale skin turned pink, touching his stomach where Andrew liked to put his hand, wondering if that needed a tattoo as well, and what design could sufficiently capture that feeling of hazy, delicious warmth. It would have to be gold and amber, he decided, tracing abstract patterns with his fingers.

When Andrew returned, carrying a six pack and a one of those green, reusable grocery bags that the local places insisted that you buy, Theodore was sitting on the couch in a pair of lounge pants, sketching with a charcoal pencil. He set his sketchpad aside and stood, meeting Andrew at the door as he took off his shoes.   
  
“Hey, come here.” Andrew awkwardly held up the arm with the beer, putting it around Theo’s bare shoulders as he bent to kiss him, lingering on his lips long enough for Theodore’s pulse to speed. When he straightened up he handed the beer to Theodore. “Take one and relax, you sounded like you were going to faint on the phone. Let me go put the milk away before anything else.” Theodore grabbed one of the bottles, twisting off the cap as he stepped out of Andrew’s way.   
  
Rolling the bottle cap in his fingers, Theodore took a long pull and followed Andrew into the kitchen, leaning on the counter as Andrew put the milk, eggs, and a few other things into the open fridge. “I was pissed off at the coffee machine today,” he said, snaking around Andrew to toss the bottle cap into the garbage can under the sink.   
  
“I told you that thing was possessed; what did it do this time?”

“Nothing, it’s working perfectly. But it can’t get in bed with me and let me sit in its lap while I drink my coffee.” He put the bottle to his lips again, his cheeks already fairly flushed. “I’m starting to miss you in the mornings already, how sad is that?” Theodore looked at his hands, anxiously picking at the label on the bottle.   
  
Andrew closed the refrigerator door and came up to Theodore, fondly brushing tendrils of damp hair out of his face. “Getting used to having me around, huh?” He asked, a bemused sort of affection in his voice as he leaned to kiss him. “I’m really glad you find that endearing rather than clingy.” As Andrew pressed his mouth against Theodore’s, lips slightly parted, Theodore wrapped his arms around his neck and held him, balancing precariously on his toes as he tried to get as close as he could, pulling away only to bury his face in Andrew’s shoulder, the scent of him, a mixture of cologne, hair product, sweat and hospital soap, making Theodore feel lightheaded and out of breath. “I’m going to go take a quick shower, we’ll figure things out from there, okay?”  
  
“No.” Andrew outweighed Theodore by a good measure, but Theo held him there just the same, nuzzling into his neck to suck on his skin.  
  
“Mm, but I smell like I ran a marathon.”

“I don’t care,” Theodore said, soft and thick. “I like the way you smell. A lot. I like  _you_  a lot.” Theodore rested his forehead on Andrew’s shoulder, speaking quietly into it. “It’s been a really long time for me, and, I think that part of the reason I’m anxious is that I…you’ve had a lot of…I don’t know what kind of expectations you have, but I want to make you—”   
  
Tenderly, Andrew pressed his fingers to Theodore’s lips, stopping him before he could say anything else. “I don’t want this to be about what you think I want; it has to be about both of us. Okay?” When Theodore nodded, Andrew dropped his hand and picked up the grocery bag. “Just because I bought condoms doesn’t mean we have to do anything either.”

Theodore slipped his hand into Andrew’s and gave him a tug, leading him out of the kitchen. “If we don’t, I might end up ambushing you at the hospital,” Theodore said with a nervous laugh, his flush having risen to his ears. When they got to the bedroom, he didn’t hesitate in opening the door because this time, the room felt  _right_  by the addition of Andrew’s presence, like he’d been missing from it all along, and it was only whole now that he was there.

“Thank you for being so patient with me.” Theodore wet his lips and slid his hands up Andrew’s scrubs, smiling at the sensation of skin and coarse hair under his fingers as he peeled the garment upwards, stopping as Andrew shrugged it off. “I needed that,” he said, wrapping his arms around Andrew’s neck again, nuzzling into it, dragging his lips across his Adam’s apple. The little involuntary twitches and tightening of Andrew’s skin made heat rise in his belly; knowing that someone wanted you and feeling it were two different things, and when Theodore slid his hand down between Andrew’s legs and felt the stiffness and the heat, just under two thin layers of fabric, he smiled.

In bed it was harder to feel coy and controlled, with Andrew firmly insinuated between his legs, his slowly rocking hips offering pressure and friction to Theodore’s hard cock, and Theodore gave up on it pretty much immediately. Instead, he ran his fingers through Andrew’s hair, closing his eyes and sucking on his lower lip as Andrew moved his mouth along whatever part of Theodore’s body he happened to be closest to. He decided that he liked having his arms and hands kissed a lot more than he ever would have imagined, but maybe not so much as how he liked Andrew’s prickly chin rubbing against his stomach.

“That tickles,” he said, not complaining, but he curled up around Andrew’s head when he did it again, laughing, struggling, trying to pull away as his muscles jumped and Andrew nibbled at his flat stomach. He stopped, eventually, when Theodore was gasping for air, and kissed one of his hipbones, then the other, tentatively running a hand over the waistband of Theodore’s pants. Theodore lifted his hips and hooked his thumbs into the waistband, shoving it down, watching Andrew wet his lips as his gaze raked across Theodore’s body, taking the time to memorize the dip in his skinny stomach and the fine red hair trailing down from his belly button.  
  
“God, you’re beautiful.” Andrew climbed over him again, one hand on the tattoos on Theodore’s collarbone, covering his mouth urgently with his own, giving him long, needy kisses that left him out of breath and staring, his amber eyes half-lidded when he reluctantly pulled away. “I’m a lucky man.” He tenderly brushed his thumb across Theodore’s lower lip, then turned to kiss his ear, then his neck, then his collarbone, tracing those tattoos with eager, thorough lips and tongue, all the while glancing up through his hair to watch Theodore’s face.   
  
Theodore lay under his hands, eyes closed, his breath shuddering, tangling his fingers into Andrew’s hair as he moved down his body. Tongue and teeth on his nipples embarrassed him, but the heat and pinch made his cock throb and his pulse race. He shoved his face into the pillow, squirming, feeling his chest and neck flush along with his cheeks. Andrew called him beautiful again, and he sat up to grab him, pulling him by the hair to kiss him, keening low on his throat when Andrew sat back, gathering Theodore into his lap.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” Andrew's lips were on his ear when he spoke, hot breath sending shivers down Theodore’s spine as he sat on one of Andrew’s thighs.   
  
“I have some idea,” Theodore said, shifting until he could feel Andrew’s cock through his scrubs, hard and hot, still trapped under his briefs.   
  
“Mm, it’s not about that. It’s about you.” Andrew rested his forehead against Theodore’s, smiling as Theodore ran his fingers through his hair again. “I love you.” He swallowed hard, working his jaw. “I know this is the worst time to say it, but I do, and I’ve wanted to say it for…a while now.” Andrew met Theodore’s gaze, looking sheepish and unsure.

“I had some idea about that too.” Theodore kissed him on the nose, dragging his lips slowly over the bump on the bridge. “But I’m really glad to hear you say it. I can’t even drink coffee in the morning without thinking about you, and if that’s not love, then I don’t know what is.” Theodore smiled, nuzzling his nose against Andrew’s, tightening his arms around his shoulders when Andrew let out what sounded for all the world like a sigh of relief.   
  
They slowed down; Andrew went into the kitchen and came back with beer, joking that they should have had champagne or something, but they’d have to make do. Theodore sat naked, relaxed and comfortable, sipping from the cold bottle as Andrew rummaged around in other rooms. He came back with a few extra pillows and a radio, fiddling with hooking up his mp3 player and finding the right playlist. When he came back a third time with candles, Theodore started laughing, humoring Andrew as he placed them around the room and lit them with his new lighter. Theodore turned the bedside lights off and set the empty bottle on the nightstand, beckoning Andrew to return.

“Actually, this is kind of nice,” Theodore said as Andrew rejoined him on the bed, feeling hazy and drunk on the sensation of his heart fluttering madly in his chest, eagerly lifting up his hips when Andrew slipped a pillow under him. In the dim light, Andrew was beautiful, all soft lines and flickering shadows, and Theodore kept trying to pull him in for kisses, huffing in frustration when he leaned over him only to grab the bag and dump out the contents, grabbing a small plastic bottle and opening it up. “Mm, that’s cold.” Theodore put his forearm over his eyes, breathing slow and deep as Andrew’s fingers slipped between his legs, slick and wet, rubbing slow circles over sensitive skin.   
  
“Is this okay?” Andrew moved over him, nudging his arm away from his face to kiss him as he nodded, slowly sliding in a finger, frowning at the resistance. “Oh, fuck, you’re really tight.” Andrew pressed his lips together, furrowing his brow. “Maybe it’d be better if I—” Theodore grabbed Andrew and pulled him closer, kissing him soundly, a long sigh escaping his nose as he shifted his hips downwards until that finger was deep inside of him. From there, Theodore took control, urging him, moving his lips over Andrew’s free hand, suckling on his fingertips and dragging his teeth over his wrist. He pressed his hips down to meet Andrew with every additional finger, gripping his hand tightly when he found that spot, his hips rocking involuntarily as his nerves set alight and heat coursed through him.

“Switch places with me,” Theodore said finally, and rolled onto his side. Sitting back on his heels, he opened the box of condoms while Andrew propped himself up with pillows, tearing one open and rolling it onto Andrew’s cock as he moved to straddle him. Andrew’s hands were on Theodore’s hips as he positioned himself, one hand guiding Andrew’s cock as he leaned down to kiss him on the nose again. He lowered himself with painful slowness, groaning deep in his throat at the heat and the fullness, the unbearable closeness of it all, his thighs resting on Andrew’s hip bones as he pressed himself flush with Andrew’s body.   
  
“Oh my god.” Andrew’s voice was thick and reverent, and he was still except for his hands stroking Theodore’s legs. Theodore watched him through his hair, hanging wild around his shoulders, thinking that he seemed so much smaller when he was underneath, and liking that notion quite a bit. When he lifted himself on his knees and slid back down his cock, Andrew gasped and screwed his eyes shut, making Theodore smile. It felt good to be full of him, to be on him and part of him, but what was really exciting was to watch Andrew losing control. His jaw hung slack when Theodore did it again, and when Andrew looked at him it was with blatant hunger.

“You like that, huh?” Theodore purred, pressing his hands against Andrew’s chest to stabilize himself as he started a rhythmic rise and fall, the sweat beading on his forehead catching on his eyelashes on the way down. When he rested his weight forward on his arms, Andrew’s grip on his waist tightened. Theodore’s breath came in fast, staccato gasps as Andrew started thrusting his hips to meet his downward slide, and eventually Theodore didn’t have the strength to keep himself up any longer, his arms trembling and buckling at the elbows. Andrew bent his legs at the knees for leverage as Theodore laid down on him, kissing him urgently as he thrust into him.

“Does it feel good?” Andrew gave Theodore’s ass a firm squeeze as he waited for him to respond, fondly kissing his hair when all he got as an answer was a breathy growl of  _fuck_  and  _yes_  and  _oh god_. Between their bodies Theodore’s cock pressed into Andrew’s stomach with every thrust, leaving Theodore feeling incoherent from the friction and the heat. “Do you know how long I wanted to do this?” Andrew asked, pressing his lips firmly to Theodore’s shoulder after he spoke, slowing his thrusts when he felt Theodore’s hips start jerking arrhythmically, not wanting it to end so quickly. “The night I met you, I kept asking myself if…nnng…” Andrew gripped Theodore’s hips and held them still. “I kept asking myself if it was just the adrenaline or what, but fuck, I wanted you then.” Theodore looked down at him, sweaty and wild-eyed, his chest heaving as he tried to buck down against Andrew’s cock, the interruption making him desperate for more.

“I can’t…” Theodore rolled his hips as he spoke, pulling free of Andrew’s grip and thrusting himself back onto his cock. “I can’t fucking think like this,” Theodore said with a growl, grinding himself against Andrew’s stomach. “Please, don’t stop. Ah! Fuck! Yes!”  
  
Andrew began to thrust again, short and fast, Theodore’s body jolting with every upward shove. It pushed Theodore over the edge, and he buried his face into the pillow as he came, groaning and growling, his body trembling violently as it ran through him, leaving his mind blank and his throat hoarse from gasping. Andrew held him, stroking his hair off of his sweaty face and waiting until the shaking had stopped to start thrusting into him again. He let himself go, giving into the baser nature of his desire, holding Theodore’s hips down and bucking into him until he couldn’t take it anymore and joined Theodore in the panting, sensation-drunk afterglow.

They lay together like that for a long while, until the candles had sputtered out and the sticky wetness started to feel cold and slightly embarrassing. Theodore took another quick shower while Andrew changed the sheets and had a cigarette on the balcony in his briefs, taking the shower after Theodore was done. He came back to the bedroom to find Theodore waiting for him, half-awake but wearing a sweet, small smile. He crawled into bed and Theodore gathered him up, kissing his wet hair and the back of his neck as he held him close, Andrew’s back to Theodore’s chest.  
  
“Aren’t I a bit too big to be the little spoon?” Andrew asked, teasing Theodore as he tightened his grip.   
  
“Nope,” Theodore said, murmuring into the back of his neck as he settled, shifting one leg between Andrew’s as he got comfortable. “You’re my spoon, so I get to decide whether you’re big or little.” Theodore pressed his lips to Andrew’s shoulder when he laughed, closing his eyes as he drowsily nuzzled against him.   
  
“I’m always going to be bigger than you,” Andrew said, bringing Theodore’s hand to his lips and kissing it, “but I like the idea of being yours.”   
  
They drifted to sleep that way, warm and satisfied, and when Andrew woke hazily in the morning with Theodore’s arms still wrapped tightly around him, he decided that he liked being the little spoon, but only when Theodore was the big one.


	11. Chapter 11

That morning there was no breakfast in bed, no coffee from the corner café, only Andrew and a world of shameless hunger. Theodore felt it in the lips on his fingertips, on the head tilting back to nuzzle his shoulder, and he indulged, sinking into the mattress as Andrew climbed atop him. When Andrew lowered himself to kiss him, all messy hair and half-lidded eyes, Theodore pressed delicate fingers against his chin to tilt it upwards and mouth lazily at his neck, biting down when Andrew tried to move.

Theodore directed him with tender hands, urging him onto his back and straddling him, exploring him with the intensity of an artist, tracing the lines of his musculature and bone structure without thought towards erogenous zones. He learned the curve of his collarbone and the rise of his shoulder. The dip in his sternum he followed with his thumb, fingers splayed over pectoral muscles and fine hair until he reached his abdomen and bent at the waist to kiss the base of his neck.   
  
“I have to work later.” Andrew cupped Theodore’s chin, his eyes sparkling with humor. “So if you going to be at that for more than a few hours, I might need to take a rain check.”   
  
Theodore dragged his fingers down Andrew’s ribs, shook his head out of Andrew’s hand and used his tongue to trail a light, wet line down his abdomen. He kissed his belly button, sliding his fingers across the indentations of his iliac furrow.   
  
“Are you trying to rush me?”

“Heaven forbid. I’m just not sure that my supervisor will take ’my boyfriend wants to take his time’ as a valid excuse for being late.” Andrew propped himself up on his elbows, squinting as the light streaming in through the gaps in the curtains hit him in the face. Looking up from nuzzling into his lower belly, Theodore smiled at play of sunshine off of his hair, thinking of that hazy, concussed moment when he opened his eyes to see Andrew hovering over him, backlit by the yellow street lamp, looking far too ethereal for his own good.   
  
“We should go to the beach some time.” Theodore kissed his hipbone, then his thigh, stroking the trail of dark hair on his groin, feeling so relaxed that he could fall asleep there, sweet and warm, breathing easily.   
  
“Do they make sunscreen strong enough to keep you from burning?” Andrew pushed Theodore’s hair out of his face. “Or do your freckles just get darker?”   
  
Theodore shrugged; it had been a long time since he’d gone to a beach, since he’d wanted to, but the prospect of watching Andrew, hair wet and loose, soaking up the sun and the waves was tantalizing to the point of obsession. For the first time, Theodore felt a pang of regret, not for what they’d done, but for what they hadn’t. He could easily imagine Andrew on the promenade in Santa Monica, his hair bleached from the Californian sun, wearing the uniform of t-shirt and sandals like a tourist, with big, stylish sunglasses on his aquiline nose. Even in a city as large as Los Angeles, they may have passed one another once or twice back when they both lived there, back when they were different people, but life was full of those unknowable questions and unfulfilled desires. Theodore detached from them, shifting his focus to the present, to the things that grounded him, the smell of fabric softener and sweat, and the salt on his tongue when he licked the tip of Andrew’s stiffening cock.

“Mmmm, turn around if you’re going to do that.” Andrew laid back down, propping his head up with a pillow and waiting. When Theodore only looked at him curiously, he explained. “Put your legs on either side of my shoulders, I can’t reach you when you’re down there.”   
  
He did as he was asked, crawling around and swinging a leg over Andrew’s shoulder, carefully avoiding his head, though Andrew put a hand on his ankle to guide it anyway. He scooted back until he was positioned with his chest pressed against Andrew’s lower belly before turning his attention again to his cock, gripping it lightly at the base and sliding his hand up, wetting his lips and rubbing them slickly against the tip, taking his time with it, wrapping his mouth around the head, then dragging his tongue down the shaft. He sighed contentedly when he felt Andrew respond in kind, shifting his weight forward more so he wasn’t relying on his knees to keep himself upright. Andrew’s hands roamed, making expeditions up Theodore’s back and down the curve of his ass, deliberately tickling his inner thighs and squeezing his hips when he wriggled.  
  
Theodore was leisurely, his pace lazy as he stroked Andrew, dipping his head down to kiss his belly and trail his lips back down to his cock, showing his appreciation for the soft skin and short hair on his stomach, stopping when Andrew moved his hips in effort to get more friction. He mouthed his cock, licking slow and light, playing, testing, and teasing, tasting salt when he pressed his tongue across the slit, the flavor familiar, but unique. Andrew had less patience; when Theodore built a rhythm then stopped abruptly, Andrew dug his fingers into his slim hips and pulled him down, too heated to keep up that kind of languid pace.

A trend appeared. Theodore’s ability to be coquettish was limited by Andrew’s skill, and when Andrew took Theodore’s cock into his mouth, easily swallowing him deep until his lips were flush with pale skin and fine red hair, Theodore sunk into sensation, curling his toes against the headboard. It felt ridiculous to lose himself so quickly, his eyes rolling back at the heat, the moisture, and the pressure while he tried to not seem out of practice and overeager, but it was right; it was them. Andrew was over-confident and Theodore was a bundle of nerves; they were mutually fascinated with one another and quickly ran out of control. They were rhythm and slickness, huffing breaths and tense muscles, and when they were spent, they dozed, curled around one another, waking to groggy yawns and growling stomachs.   
  
After no small amount of reluctance, they finally started the day. In the kitchen, Theodore prodded at the coffee maker while Andrew cracked eggs, humming to himself as he shuffled around the modest kitchen in his baggy cotton pants.   
  
“I thought you couldn’t cook.” Theodore leaned back against the counter as Andrew sliced off a pat of butter and tossed it into the heated pan, the smell of coffee already permeating the apartment.

“I  _don’t_  cook. There’s an important distinction there.” After whisking the eggs with a fork, Andrew poured them into the pan, the sizzle drowning out the quiet coffee maker. “I prefer to go out, but for you? I’ll cook.”   
  
Theodore grinned, then realized he was grinning, and tried to remember when was the last time he’d grinned before meeting Andrew. Christmas at Corvus, possibly, drunk on Irish coffee and eggnog and sitting sandwiched between Sig and Zev, lipstick on his cheek from getting stuck under the mistletoe. “Well I’m honored, unless it’s inedible, and then I’m just annoyed that you wasted my eggs.”   
  
“I bought these eggs,” said Andrew, somewhat defensively, but he had a similar grin on his face as he shook the salt shaker over the pan. “We should go out for dinner, someplace nice.”

“What’s the occasion?” The coffee maker hissed, and Theodore picked up the pot and filled one of his giant mugs.   
  
“The occasion?” Andrew turned his head, still minding the eggs. “The occasion is that I’m in love with an amazing, gorgeous, sexy man who, on top of putting up with my ridiculous schedule, happens to be incredible in bed. That calls for some kind of celebration, if you ask me.”   
  
Laughing and red-cheeked, Theodore poured a cup for Andrew as well, adding sugar, wondering when he’d learned exactly how he liked his coffee. “I don’t know if incredible is the word that I’d use, I’m out of practice.”   
  
“Oh, I can give you practice. We can practice all you want. In the shower, on the floor, on the couch, maybe bent over the kitchen counter…” Andrew trailed off, poking absently at the eggs with a spatula. “I’d say the kitchen table, but we’d break it. Maybe your desk instead. Give me some plates, would you?” Theodore handed over a couple of plates, fishing forks out of the silverware drawer as Andrew split the scrambled eggs and served them. “But that’s besides the point; dinner, somewhere nice, with cloth napkins and a wine list.”   
  
“I don’t like wine.” Theodore took his plate and suspiciously poked at his eggs without sitting down, leaning to the side when Andrew reached around him for his coffee.   
  
“Picky. Somewhere with an extensive amount of microbrews on tap instead?”  
  
“You’re not really planning on celebrating the fact that we had sex, are you?”

“Not really; I wasn’t going to get you a card and flowers for a job well done, even if you do deserve it—I’m going to be distracted all day thinking about your ass, you know—but we’ve gone out on Fridays every week for two months now. I figured we might as well make it date night.” Andrew put a forkful of egg into his mouth, then grimaced, swallowing hard and taking Theodore’s plate away from him. “Okay, so maybe I can’t cook.” He scraped both plates into the garbage disposal, running it and sticking the dishes into the dishwasher while Theodore watched him with one raised brow, smirking. “So. Uh. Sorry for wasting your eggs.”   
  
Theodore started laughing, putting his hand over his face to cover his mouth and nose loosely. When he couldn’t stop, he punched Andrew in the arm, his smile so wide that it hurt. Andrew wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head, promising that dinner would be better, and that his horrible cooking skills would never again darken Theodore’s kitchen.   
  
Then the fire alarm started beeping, shrill and urgent, and Andrew, cursing frantically, grabbed the smoking pan off of the red burner and turned it off while Theodore opened the sliding glass door, letting cool morning air pour into the apartment. The alarm screeched until Andrew found it and pulled the batteries out of the back, looking sheepishly at Theodore standing near the door with his coffee, his lips pressed firmly together, his face humorless.

“Shit, I am so fucking sorry, I’ll get you a new pan, I didn’t—” Andrew raked back his loose hair, gritting his teeth and nervously patting his pants, looking for his cigarettes. Theodore, shaking his head incredulously, crossed the kitchen to put his arm around Andrew’s neck.   
  
“I have never,” he said, only just holding back a snorting giggle, “seen anyone fuck up eggs so badly. It’s a talent, Andrew, a talent.”   
  
“What can I say? I’m good at a lot of things.” The relief on Andrew’s face was clearly visible as he moved to kiss Theodore again, tender and light, cupping both cheeks with warm hands and resting his forehead against his, brushing dark copper bangs out of the way to do so. “I think I’ve lost my appetite for eggs, though.”  
  
So they ate cereal instead, legs tangled under Theodore’s small table, sipping coffee and discussing culinary disasters, like the time when Theodore mistook cumin for cinnamon while making banana bread, or the time that Andrew, in a fit of poorly thought-out ambition, managed to roast a whole chicken at the wrong temperature, for twice the necessary time, until it was shriveled and black as charcoal.   
  
After eating, they went their separate ways, Andrew reluctantly getting dressed and going to work. He came back for kisses twice, the first a half-hearted peck on the cheek, the second a vigorous, forceful lip lock, clutching so firmly to the small of Theodore’s back that he actually lifted him up onto his toes. Theo put a stop to that, still smiling, his cheeks pink, waggling his fingers at Andrew as he left.

For the first time in months, work was easy. It flowed, it came naturally, and Theodore spent hours at his computer, focused to the point of missing lunch, completing three projects that he’d been working on for weeks. He stopped only when the coffee pot was empty and the need to eat overwhelmed the desire to finish. The apartment still had the faint smell of burnt eggs and scorched pan, so after filling up his sink with warm water and dumping the pan into it, Theodore went out.   
  
It was a day for sunglasses and sandals, late August still warm enough to pretend it was summer even though the temperature had started to drop. There were women pushing strollers down the quaint cobblestone sidewalks, the small babies inside wearing floppy hats and sunglasses, all looking small and tired, but content in that curious, silent way of infancy. Theodore stopped outside of Andrew’s favorite pizza parlor, recalling a conversation they’d had a few nights before about how happy the nursing staff had been when someone ordered pizzas for them. There was a line inside, but he got into it, pulling his phone out of his pocket to call Andrew and ask what toppings everyone liked most.   
  
He noticed, with a bit of confusion, that he’d missed a call the night before from his mother. The timestamp was four in the morning, and that was an odd time to be getting calls from anyone other than Andrew, so he abandoned his place in line and stepped out of the pizzeria, hitting the return call button as he put the phone to his ear and pressed his finger to the other one, blocking out the ambient noise.

The voice that answered was small and thin, much too high pitched for his mother, who had one of those husky, deep, ’smoked a pack a day since birth’ voices, despite having never picked up a cigarette in her life. Theodore felt an uncomfortably heaviness in his stomach, but he shrugged it off and he cleared his throat before speaking.   
  
“Katherine?” He asked, trying to sound upbeat and kind; there was really no reason to worry.”Is that you?”   
  
“Teddy?”   
  
“Yeah, it’s me. How are you doing? Have you started school yet?”   
  
“No. Mom’s in the hospital.”

Theodore’s stomach sank and he lost a certain amount of awareness, hardly realizing that he was holding the phone for how cold he went at those words. Memory hit him like a city bus, powerful, unstoppable, and he was sitting at home again, listening to his mother’s voice wavering on the other end of the line as she told him his father’d had a heart attack.  _We don’t know how much longer it’s going to be, Teddy. You should get here as soon as possible._  By the time he touched down in Nevada, he was already gone.

“Is she okay? What happened?” Theodore’s voice shook and he swallowed hard, pushing down the wobbly lump in his throat, feeling so sick that he had to drop onto a bench outside the restaurant, dipping his head between his legs to try and stave off the urge to vomit as his heart started pounding, rough and panicky, like it had almost stopped and was making up for lost time.   
  
“I don’t know; Ash won’t say.”   
  
“Is she taking care of you right now? Can I talk to her, please? Thanks sweetheart.” He waited, gritting his teeth as his hands started to shake, listening helplessly to Katherine walking around with the phone in her hand, sucking in a sharp breath, tamping down a sob as he heard his aunt Ashley’s weak, breathy voice on the other end of the line. “Ashley, it’s Theodore, what happened?”   
  
“Oh Theo, we tried to call you last night.” Ashley seemed wearier than usual. “Your ma had a stroke, a big one.”   
  
“Oh my god.” A numbness set in, bringing with it a sense of detachment, and Theodore watched those women with their strollers passing like some surreal bit of performance art. Here are mothers; your mother is not here. These mothers are alive; your mother may die. “Is she going to be all right?”

Ashley sighed heavily, and Theodore realized from the thickness in her voice that Katherine must have woken her up to give her the phone. “We don’t know yet; they keep saying that there are good signs that she’ll recover, but they don’t know how much she’ll lose.” She paused. “Katherine was a very good girl; she called 911 right away. Probably saved your momma’s life.” Theodore choked out a sob and clamped his hand over his mouth. “Are you gonna come? We need someone to take care of Katherine, I’m eighty-eight years old, I can’t keep up with a child the way I used to.”   
  
“Yes, of course. Thank you for what you’ve done so far. I’m going to get a plane ticket as soon as I get off the phone, and I’ll call you again when I know when I’ll be there. Tell Katherine to hang in there.” Theodore raked his hair back with a trembling hand, thanking Ashley again before hanging up and staring at his phone, the tears welling in his eyes obscuring the numbers as he looked for Andrew’s. He cursed in frustration when it went to voicemail, shooting an indignant look at the woman who tsked at him when passing, putting her hands theatrically over the ears of her young child. He dialed again, and this time Andrew answered.   
  
“Hey baby, what’s up? It’s kind of busy here today, so if it’s not an emergency…”   
  
“My mom had a stroke and she’s in the hospital and I need to go to Nevada today because someone needs to look after my baby sister—she’s only ten and my aunt is caring for her now and she’s too old for this and I’ve gotta go as soon as possible.” Theodore rambled, getting to his feet and heading back towards his apartment, blinking back tears, feeling small and lost.   
  
“Slow down, you’re all right.” There was the sound of running water in the background, and Theodore realized that Andrew must have ducked into the men’s room to answer his call. “I’m going to tell Willa what’s going on, and I’ll be at your house to help pack and get you off to the airport.”   
  
“No, you said it was busy I do—”   
  
“Don’t argue with me; you’re a mess, and I ne—I want to help you. I’ve got sick leave out the ass; I’ll just take a day. Willa won’t like it, but tough shit, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

That was all it took for Theodore to start crying; he managed to give Andrew a few one-word confirmations:  _yeah_ , and  _okay_ , before hanging up and going back to his apartment, immediately looking up airfare online, holding himself together with gritted teeth and shaking hands as he bought a ticket for later on the only flight with seats available.

When Andrew arrived, he found him sitting on his bedroom floor, surrounded by sweatshirts and a half packed suitcase, sobbing into his hands, his small body shuddering on every intake of breath. He dropped to his knees and pulled him into a bear hug, holding him as he shook, rocking him gently as they sat together on the floor, stroking his hair and hushing him.   
  
“I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here.”


	12. Chapter 12

When he was in better spirits, Theodore liked to joke about only realizing the upsides to his height when he was on an airplane. Airline seats are small enough that most people of average size feel at least a little uncomfortable in them, and for anyone bigger than the norm they’re downright painful. But Theodore never has trouble with cramped places, and normally he would have felt fortunate that he wasn’t cramming himself in, all folded and awkward like the guys on either side of him, both of whom were easily Andrew’s height.

Right now he didn’t feel much, just out of sorts and surreal with a throbbing headache that was intensified by the recycled air pumping out of the vents above his head. Getting to the airport had been oddly simple; he had sat in a cab next to Andrew, their fingers laced tightly, Theodore’s eyes already bloodshot from sobbing. Andrew looked uncharacteristically stern as he checked the time on his cell phone repeatedly, one leg jiggling nervously as the cab got stuck in traffic. But they arrived on time, and Andrew saw him to the gate. Theodore even manage to laugh politely when the man taking his bags mistakenly called him “Miss Murphy.”   
  
The “fasten seat belt” sign blinked to life as the plane began shaking. From a row somewhere ahead of him, Theodore could hear a woman reciting “Hail Mary” while the cabin jostled, and he reached up to touch a small, silver pendant where it rested on his collarbone.   
  
“Just take it,” Andrew had said, clasping it behind his neck, every expression new to Theodore, all uncomfortably steeped too deeply in loss and worry and what Theodore could have sworn was anger as he pulled off the medallion and forced it on him. “As a good luck charm, I don’t know, just something.” Then he’d hugged him, hard, putting his face into his hair and holding it there, a long sigh slipping through his lips. “Call me when you land.”   
  
As Theodore started to the gates, he felt Andrew’s hand on his shoulder, yanking him back, wrapping him up from behind, Andrew roughly pressing his face against the back Theodore’s neck. “I love you. I really do.” He kissed Theodore on the cheek before letting him go, giving him a weak smile and a wave as he went through the security checkpoint.   
  
The plane leveled out and the woman in the front stopped praying, but Theodore still clutched the medallion, stroking his thumb over the raised picture, staring blankly at the seat in front of him for the remaining hour of the flight. He bought Starbucks coffee in the terminal, trying not to be annoyed by the flavor or the inflated price as he made his way to the luggage corral to wait for his suitcase. People teemed around him; couples, families, small children holding onto their parents by pant legs, babies crying in strollers while their harried mothers jiggled them, eventually pulling them out and patting them on the back, doing the half-circle dance of attempted calm.   
  
They passed him, taking old floral suitcases and sleek black laptop bags, sliding out handles and rolling them away until he was the only one there, leaning against a column, sipping his coffee until it was gone and he was left with a bitter mouth, a throbbing skull, and no luggage.

He filed a claim with the airport, thankful that his laptop was in his carry-on with a handful of necessities like over the counter sleep aids, shampoo, his hairbrush, and deodorant, all suggested by Andrew while Theodore tried to gather his thoughts and found none there, just incoherent spinning, thinking over and over of the tremor in his mother’s voice, of watching them lower his father’s coffin, and feeling that same helplessness and sorrow all over again.   
  
“I can’t know without seeing her, but if she got to the hospital fairly quickly, she’s got a good chance of recovery.” Andrew was folding Theodore’s clothes for him, stuffing them into his suitcase with the skill of someone who knew what was like to pack in a hurry. “She’ll probably need a little help getting back to normal, but you said your sister called for an ambulance right away, right?”   
  
“Can you just stop talking about it?” Theodore’s hands shook, and he found himself wanting to take Andrew’s cigarettes out of his back pocket and smoke on the patio—not an urge he was familiar with. Andrew understood, and helped him finish packing in silence. “Do you think you can keep an eye on my place?”   
  
“You mean like pick up your mail?”   
  
“Yeah, I guess.” Theodore stared at the suitcase, trying to think of anything else he might need and coming up blank again. “Maybe stay here a couple nights a week, just…to have the lights on? It’s not the worst neighborhood, but I don’t want people thinking that there’s nobody here…”   
  
Andrew nodded, folding up Theodore’s lounge pants and putting them into the suitcase with the rest of his clothes. “I’ll hang out here a couple nights a week; you don’t mind if I use your washer and dryer, right?”   
  
“Just don’t touch the stove.”   
  
Then Andrew chuckled, and apologized, and silence set in again.   
  
Theodore called Andrew from the taxi, explaining the problem with his luggage and complaining about the coffee, trying to sound like the only worries he really had were burnt beans and the loss of some clothes. He could hear the slosh and rumble of the washer in the background and knew Andrew was at his apartment. It somehow made him feel better that he could close his eyes and imagine Andrew there, standing in his boxers, drinking a beer, or maybe puffing on the cigarette dangling from his lips as he paced, bare feet silent on the tile floor.   
  
The guilt he felt at the desire to be with him was palpable.   
  
He told Andrew that he was tired, and that he’d call him tomorrow, turning the ringer off on his phone as he put it away, leaning back against the bench seat in the taxi, sighing, spending the rest of the long ride looking out the window, watching the sun set on the horizon.   
  
A house always looks different in the dark, even if you spent the better part of your life growing up in it, and after paying the cab driver, Theodore stood in the driveway for a minute, just staring. It was the same as ever, gravel, sand, and succulents instead of grass like the lawns on either side, and his dad’s old BMW covered in the driveway, tires blown out and bumper sagging. The curtains behind the picture window were drawn, but light was seeping through around the edges, and they shuffled as he walked up the driveway, a small face appearing, then disappearing in the corner.   
  
Katherine had grown since he saw her last; he realized that she was only about five inches shorter than him now when she opened the door, shy but energetic, her skin like dark, burnished bronze, black hair in tight braids that ended with pink and white beads hanging heavy on the back of her neck. She flashed him a small, tight-lipped smile as she backed into the bright room, her russet eyes darting over Theodore to land on his laptop bag, naked curiosity blooming on her face as he stepped into the foyer.   
  
“Hey Teddy.” Her voice was smaller than she was by far, a voice that properly reflected her age, perhaps exaggerating the childishness of a demeanor that Theodore remembered as somewhat sullen and too serious for a eight-year-old girl when he saw her last. “Where’s your stuff?”   
  
Theodore didn’t answer right away, busy locking and latching the door and sliding off his shoes, old, automatic habits kicking in at the sight of the familiar decor. His painting of the back yard was still across from the front door, making it the first thing anyone saw when they walked in, and the punch of nostalgia it gave him was physically painful. He remembered painting that, sitting downwind from his father as he grilled steak and corn on that big charcoal grill that looked like a flying saucer when it was closed. He had to squint to keep the smoke out of his eyes, and reflected that in his coloring, the outer edges of the yard painted to look hazy, while the center area he saw best in perfect focus.

“It got lost at the airport, but they’re going to call me when they find it,” he said, as Katherine led him into the room, shuffling her fuzzy panda slippers against the floor while she walked. Two years ago it was frogs that she favored, her entire room done up in green and lily pads with pink accents, and he had no doubt that if he peeked in there this time it would be panda bears as far as he could see. Their mother did the same for him as a child, and he remembered fondly watching her paint a seascape on his walls when he decided he was interested in blue whales. “Is Aunt Ashley still here ?”   
  
“She’s sleeping.”   
  
“Well, it is getting late. Were you waiting up for me?”   
  
“Nope. Can’t sleep.” Katherine plopped onto the sectional sofa next to a stuffed panda bear, pulling it into her lap. “Ash doesn’t mind.”   
  
Theodore slung his laptop bag onto the couch and sat with her, physically exhausted but no more tired than he was earlier that day when he got the news about his mother. “When was the last time you slept, kiddo?” he asked gently.   
  
“Don’t call me that!” She stuck her tongue out at him, glaring pointedly when she pulled it back in.  
  
“Sorry, Kathy then?”   
  
“Katherine.”   
  
Theodore smiled, thinking about how much he must have missed in the past two years. When he last came to visit, Katherine had smiled a mouth of missing teeth at him every time he called her ‘kiddo’. It made him feel sentimental, to think how quickly things changed, his train of thought taking an immediate detour to Andrew, reminding himself that two years ago he hadn’t even thought he’d be dating again, much less for nearly a year.“So when was the last time you got any sleep?”   
  
“I had a nap today,” she said, sounding guarded and frustrated, but when she looked up at Theodore there was fear in her eyes. “Is mom going to be okay?”   
  
Theodore swallowed hard, pressing his lips together as he once again heard Andrew talking about recovery rates and loss of function and death of brain cells, sounding cautiously optimistic and clinically detached, as if he were examining her in his head while he spoke. “She’s going to be just fine, and she’s going to be really, really upset if she knew I was letting you stay up all night, so why don’t you go brush your teeth and get ready for bed, huh?”   
  
Katherine heaved a dramatic sigh and melted off of the couch, dragging her panda with her as she stomped off down the hall in a huff, noisily opening doors as she went to the bathroom. Theodore stood, abandoning his laptop bag as he went to the guest room and found the door locked, confirming his suspicions that Ashley was sleeping there. He continued down the hall instead, opening the linen closet and finding it as well organized as always, sheets on the top shelf where he had to stretch to get them, blankets on the bottom under the towels.   
  
After making a makeshift bed on the couch, he checked on Katherine, who was sitting on her bed reading a chapter book with a colorful cover. She smiled at him, just slightly, when he peeked in, looking more tired than she had just ten minutes before.   
  
“Good night Katherine; we’ll hear more news about mom tomorrow, okay?” He closed the door when she nodded, and returned to the living room to settle onto the couch, looking quietly at the familiar furniture, wondering why nothing here had seemed to change when he knew that everything had changed.   
  
His cell phone buzzed, the vibration kicking in since the ringer was off, and when he checked, there was a picture of Andrew taken at arm’s length, showing him cozy and comfortable in Theodore’s bed, his shaggy hair messy, a glint of light from the flash reflecting off of his gold earring. The picture was followed quickly by a text message.

_Miss you already._

Theodore stared at the screen, carefully tracing his finger over the curve of Andrew’s cheek before setting the picture as his background.   
  
 _I miss you too_ , he typed, which was the truth but not all of it. “I miss you,” didn’t articulate the stress and the strain of wanting him there, not for the companionship or the company, but because it felt like Andrew was supposed to be there, as his lover, his friend, and maybe as a part of his family. It was strange, to lie on his mother’s couch, in the home he grew up in, and realize that it was that serious, that it was that strong, and feel the lump rise in his throat in knowing that he’d never get to introduce Andrew to his dad.   
  
Sighing, he deleted the message and tapped the phone against his lips.   
  
When he called, Andrew’s voice as sleepy and sweet, and had a kind of thick-tongued tenderness that came from a few beers and a comfortable position. When Theo closed his eyes, he could push his back against the couch and feel like he was in his own bed, Andrew’s body behind his. That was just enough, and he fell asleep with the phone cradled to his ear, pretending that Andrew was much closer than he sounded.


	13. Chapter 13

Even before meeting Andrew, Theodore had no problem with hospitals. Prior to breaking his arm, he only had surgery once, and that was a simple tonsillectomy at six. His mom loved to tell the story about how, after waking up groggy and confused, the first thing he did was ask where the doctor was so he could hug him. So naturally, when he went to see his mom in the hospital, looking worn and weary, the first thing he asked was if she’d hugged the doctor yet.

She laughed, and the relief that ran through Theodore was so strong that it planted him into a chair near her bed, overcome with an outpouring of thankful joy. He took her thin hand and gave it a firm squeeze, a lopsided smile on his face as she spoke, slow and clumsy, stumbling over her words as she tried to tell him that she was going to be fine and it wasn’t necessary for him to have come all this way.

Her doctors saw it differently. They lined up in front of him outside of her room, talking about in-home care and rehabilitation, warning him that she lost motor function in her left arm and leg, and that her short term memory was very poor. They handed him pamphlets on occupational therapy, psychotherapy, and physical therapy, all of which they explained would be necessary for her to recover fully. He nodded numbly as they told him that she might need to once again learn how to do basic things, like cook or use a telephone, and stared, blank and overwhelmed, at the pamphlets as they left him there with an assurance that she would be ready to go home in a few days. 

The next month was a blur. His mother came home two days after he arrived, beating his luggage by a day, only to spend the majority of her time in rehab and therapy, too exhausted to think, as she put it. She barely had the energy to stay awake, much less keep up with Katherine or the house, and though Theodore stepped in willingly, he was not entirely prepared for what that entailed.

Katherine started school a week after their mother was released, so Theodore had to take her shopping, spending long hours waiting while she tried on new clothes and meticulously picked out the other necessary supplies, taking more time to decide which pencils and notebooks she wanted than Theodore had ever imagined possible. It was a trying process, made more difficult by the fact that Katherine seemed to be going through phases, growing pains, periods where she was angry for no reason, or claimed to not like food she had enjoyed just days before, and the patience that it took to deal with that was almost more than Theodore could muster. He managed, but only by reminding himself that soon she would be spending most of the day in class, leaving him time to get back to his design work.

As his mother began to make slow progress in her recovery, he settled as well as he could into the demanding roles of surrogate parent and caregiver. He got up early with Katherine and made breakfast before seeing her off to school, making sandwiches with whatever cold-cuts and spreads she actually liked that week and packing them into her lunchbox with juice and snacks. As soon as the school bus rounded the corner, he helped his mother get ready to go to all of her various appointments. He repeated this process five days a week, driving her to a half-dozen different specialists, sitting in eerily similar lobbies for hours, reading, texting Andrew and trying not to be impatient. Often, they would get home just in time for Theodore to start dinner as Katherine returned from class. He was tired by then, and that was just meals, not clean-up or maintenance. Laundry alone was more tiring than he thought it ought to be, but he underestimated the sheer amount of clothing a ten-year-old girl goes through on a weekly basis. Between keeping them fed and clean he had little time left over, and he spent what he had working on projects, trying not to get so behind that his clients became frustrated with him. By the end of most days he had just enough energy left to comb his hair and fall into bed in exhaustion. 

It didn’t take him long to miss Andrew in earnest, feeling a powerful desire to have him near enough to smell his cologne again, not just for the support, though he felt like he needed that, but out of a selfish yearning to return to the way things were. Coffee still wasn’t the same without him there, only now it wasn’t as simple as going a few blocks down the street to meet him at Corvus or the hospital. They talked plenty, having long, often sleepy conversations that were interrupted by Theodore needing to help his mother or sister with something, but he could hear the ache in Andrew’s voice when he answered the phone, feeling it reflected in his chest when he laid down at night in the guest bedroom, hugging a pillow and wishing it was bigger and warmer and unwilling to let him go in the morning. 

“You know, I can take some time off and come see you, maybe help you out for a couple of days. I’m great with kids.” Andrew had brought this up before, earlier in the month, but Theodore had been against the idea. His mother was still somewhat disoriented, and no matter how much he tried to reassure her, she was ashamed of her inability to do things that used to be effortless. She hadn’t painted since her stroke, and he could tell how much that was upsetting her, but over a month had passed, and seeing nobody other than his sister, his mother, and her doctors was starting to make him feel tremendously lonely. He didn’t just miss Andrew, he missed Portland. He missed Corvus, and Sig and Zev, and all the little restaurants and shops that he and Andrew liked to go to. Andrew was just the only part of Portland he could bring to Nevada. 

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” he said, lying stretched out on the guest bed, watching the news on a muted TV. “I’m getting kind of stir crazy out here.”

“I’ll talk to Willa tomorrow; I’ve got a lot of vacation saved up, I can probably take a week without anyone being too upset about it…I really want to see you.” His voice was husky and soft, and it made Theodore instinctively wet his lips, his heart fluttering wild against his rib cage. That tone was familiar, and usually followed by hungry, deep kisses and fingers buried in his hair, maybe a thigh between his legs for friction and pressure, and a hand on the small of his back, pulling him in, making him feel overwhelmed. He flicked off the TV and got off the bed, locking the door and turning off the overhead light, favoring the dim table lamp on the nightstand instead.

“It’s been driving me insane,” Theodore said as he rested back against the pillows, closing his eyes, imagining Andrew laying on that small, drooping futon in his apartment, and remembering that morning he woke up there, half underneath him, wearing his shirt, with the scent of him on his skin, wanting him profoundly, and frustrated by his own indecision. “I knew it would be difficult, but I didn’t think I’d miss…touching you so much.” He lowered his voice; it was late, and he knew that both Katherine and his mother were asleep, but the location made him shy and wary just the same.

“Don’t tell me that.” The futon slats creaked as Andrew shifted. “I keep having these dreams about you, and then you go and say something like that. It makes me want to get on a plane tonight.”

“What kind of dreams?” Andrew’s voice was irresistible; his little sighs and inhalations made Theodore’s pulse quicken. He lifted his shirt and pressed his hand against the place on his stomach that Andrew liked, spreading out his fingers, trying to make his hand seem bigger.

“Oh you’d like’em.” Andrew lowered his voice. “I had one about the night we watched the meteor shower on the roof on the hospital, but instead of getting caught, I fucked you up against the wall while that security guard looked for us.”

“Christ, Andrew, that’s not fair.” Theodore’s breath hitched as that image painted itself behind his eyelids; he could almost feel the rough scrape of concrete on his palms, and Andrew’s body against his back, lips on his neck, hands firmly holding his hips as he drove his cock into him from behind. He swallowed hard, hot and agitated.

“Oh no? You know how often I’ve been sleeping over at your place? The sheets still fucking smell like you, and I washed them twice. That isn’t fair.” Andrew exhaled hard. “I don’t think I’ve jacked off this much since I was a teenager.” 

Theodore slid that hand down, toying with the waistband of his boxers before dropping it between his legs, stroking himself through his cotton as his cock stiffened from half hard to full and blood-swollen. He pushed them down a bit, raising his hips just enough to let them bunch under his ass, his cock heavy and hot against his stomach. “Oh yeah?

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…yeah.” Theodore sighed through his nose as he reached up and rummaged through the drawer on the nightstand, finding some lotion and slicking his fingers with it. “Lately, just hearing your voice gets me hard.” 

“Mmm, I like that. Do you want me to tell you what I’d do to you if you were here?” 

“I just want you,” he said softly, wrapping his fingers around his cock and stroking lightly, trying to imagine that it was Andrew’s tongue running slow across the head, rather than his own thumb. 

“Christ, Theo. You have no fucking idea what you do to me.” Andrew’s voice sounded strained.

“Well tell me then. Do I distract you? Do I make you hard?”

“All the fucking time. You can’t even imagine how much I want to do to you.” Andrew’s voice was low and private, and if he tried hard enough, Theodore could imagine the brush of stubble against his ear as he spoke directly into it. “Are you touching yourself?” 

“Mm-hmm. It’s not enough though, your hands are so much better…” That was shameless, purely baiting Andrew, and Theodore didn’t care. He’d hardly had a minute to himself since coming out here, and now that he did he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. 

“Jesus.” Andrew exhaled in a short, raspy huff, the slats creaking ominously again. “I want you to take off all your clothes. You gonna do that for me baby?”

“Yeah, I will, just a second.” Theodore set the phone on the pillow as he peeled his shirt over his head, putting it to the side, gooseflesh rising on his arms as he kicked off his boxers, the comforter cool against his bare skin. He laid back down and cradled the phone to his ear. “Alright, it’s all off.” 

“I don’t want you to touch your cock yet,” Andrew said, almost stern as he cleared his throat. “Tilt your head back a little, and touch your neck.” 

“Mm. I don’t usually…” Theodore did as he asked anyway, eyes closed, pressing the back of his head into the pillow as he ran his fingertips down his neck, his pulse jumping lightly under his touch. “Touch other places when I’m…”

“It’s not you this time. It’s me,” Andrew said, sweet and thick. “My hands, my lips, my tongue.” 

“My imagination isn’t that good,” Theodore said, his fingers playing over his Adam’s apple. “It still feels like my hands.” 

“Pretend it’s me. You know that spot right under your ear, where it meets your jaw? You like when I kiss that.” Theron slid his fingers up his neck as Andrew spoke, biting his lower lip lightly when he touched his ear, then his jawline, remembering a hundred times when Andrew had buried his face there, his skin alight from the rasp of stubble coupled with the warm wetness of his tongue. He shivered. “First thing I’m going to do when I get you alone is kiss that spot until you can’t stand it.”

“I can’t wait,” he murmured, dragging his short nails gently across his neck, leaning into it. “What else are you gonna do?” 

“Anything you want.”

“Mm. But what do  _you_  want?” Theodore ran his fingers down his neck and over his collarbone, following the same lines that Andrew liked, touching his tattoos, thinking that they almost felt different now, as if Andrew’s hands had left a mark.

“Right now? I want to see if I could put your legs over my shoulders while I fuck you…see how much you can take…watch the look on your face while I’m inside you…” Andrew paused, sighed, and Theodore could hear the slats creaking again. “Go ahead and touch your cock, and I want to hear how good it feels.” 

Theodore shifted his hips as he did, sighing through his nose at the sensation. It was enough, but it wasn’t what he wanted. “You know what I want? I want to ride you again.” Andrew’s breath shuddered on the other end of the line, and it made Theron’s stomach clench and release in a pleasant, urgent way. “I really like that, but…I think….I also want to feel you on top of me.” He bit down hard on his lower lip, breathing deep and quick as he stroked himself in earnest, listening carefully to every small noise from Andrew, a soft groan making his cock throb and his heart race. “I love feeling…I dunno…overpowered.”

“I can do that if you want me to. I could hold you down, and make it so you couldn’t move unless I let you.” His voice was strained, full of short, shallow breaths.

“I want that.” Theodore’s breath came out in a hiss as he sped his pace, now thrusting into his hand instead of just stroking himself. “Tell me—just keep talking please, I’m almost there.”

“You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to get you in bed, just like you are now, and I’m going to climb over you and hold your arms over your head.” Andrew’s voice was thick, his breath fast, and Theodore leaned against the phone, wanting more. “Push your thighs apart…” Theodore did, not sure whether it was part of the fantasy or a command—it didn’t matter, he could feel it building. “Then I’m going to make you beg for my cock. Do you want it?” 

“Fuck! Yes!” Theron groaned, trying to keep quiet as he could, and pressed the phone between his shoulder and ear, dropping his other hand between his legs to slide it back and run his fingers across that sensitive skin, the extra sensation just enough to push him over the edge. He gasped, ragged and loud, thrusting up into his hand as he came, focusing hard on the sound of Andrew’s breath hitching on the other side of the line. “Oh fuck, Andrew.” Theodore rolled his head to the side, glancing down at his sticky hands, helplessly looking for something to wipe them off. Andrew just groaned. “Hang on a sec…” Theodore left the phone on the pillow as he went into the bathroom attached to the guest room to wash his hands and otherwise clean up before returning. “Sorry. You still there?” 

“Yeah. Heh, damn. It’s been a while since I had phone sex.” Andrew laughed, rustling noises in the background followed by running water. “Felt like being grounded as a teenager again.” 

“Your parents let you keep the phone in your room while you were grounded, huh?”

“What can I say? I was a spoiled punk.” The slats sounded like they were about to give out as Andrew sat and Theodore chuckled at that while he rummaged around the bed, looking for the boxers he’d kicked off. “Was it okay, at least?”

“Mmm, it was good, would have been better if it was you, but I think it’ll hold me over.” He tugged them over his thin hips as he found them, and then shimmied under the blanket, turning off the bedside lamp, the exhaustion of the day catching up with him now that he was sated and comfortable. “Do you really plan on doing that? Trying to make me beg?” 

Andrew laughed awkwardly. “I could try, but I can’t say no to you. All you have to do is look at me the right way and I’m all yours.” 

“I like the idea of you being all mine.” Theodore yawned, sleepily burrowing deeper under the blankets, nuzzling his head into the pillow. “You know, if you can get the time off, it would really be nice to have you here for a while. I miss you.” 

“I miss you too, coffee bean. It sucks sleeping in your bed without you.” He sighed, and there was a long pause. Theodore jolted awake when he started talking again. “I’ll talk to Willa first thing tomorrow. If I’m lucky, I can get a flight in the next day or so. Is there anything you want me to bring you from your place, anything you forgot?”

“I can’t think of anything. You should bring a panda for Katherine though, she’s shy around strangers, and I think a peace offering might be necessary.” 

“Sounds like a good idea. I can hear you falling asleep over there, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, Theo.” 

“Andrew? Maybe you could bring me that t-shirt, the one I slept in at your apartment?” Andrew chuckled softly, saying  _whatever you want_  before once again telling him in loved him and to sleep well.

The next morning, after Katherine had eaten her breakfast and gotten onto the school bus, Theodore sat down with his mother at the kitchen table. He loved how the house had a big, solid, farmhouse table, with six chairs and two extras tucked away in a spare room. It was a family kitchen table for a family house. She used to arrange fruit and flowers on it just so, then tell him he ought to practice on his still life drawing. He rarely did, but she did it anyway, and occasionally he’d find her sitting there with her own sketchpad, working with the kind of delicate, wispy, yet impeccably controlled lines that he never managed to master. 

“So, it looks like my boyfriend is going to be able to take some time off of work,” Theodore said, smiling as his mother looked up from the crossword puzzle she was trying to complete. They were getting easier for her again, but she still hadn’t finished one since the stroke. “He was thinking of coming down for about a week. I really think you’d like him.” 

“What was his name again?” She folded the newspaper in front of her slowly, her left hand shaky and uncooperative. It was progress. When she’d first come home, she could barely lift her arm. 

“Andrew.”   
  
“Right, right. You miss him, don’t you?” Theodore nodded, still smiling. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to be out here so long…”

“Come on Mom, I told you not to worry about that.” Theodore reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m happy to help, and it’s not like I’m missing work or anything. Besides, after all you’ve done for me…” 

“You don’t owe me anything, I’ve told you that.” She carefully picked up a half-filled mug of coffee and brought it to her lips. “But I’m really thankful for your help.” A smile crossed her lips, shades of her old self before she once again looked worn out and much older than she ought to for sixty. “And I do want to meet this boyfriend; he’s the one you started dating when you broke your arm, right?” 

“Yeah, not exactly a traditional way to meet a guy, but…” Theodore laughed, dropping his gaze to his hands, feeling somewhat shy about the whole situation. “I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with him.”   
  
“Sounds like it’s high time I meet him.” Slowly, she got to her feet, picking up the cane that was resting against her chair and gripping it firmly with her right hand. Her balance was still off, and though her physical therapist had originally suggested a walker, she was having none of it.

Mom?” Theodore asked tentatively, waiting until she’d turned to face him to continue. “Did Dad…he was never…I mean…we never talked about, you know, me being gay. It didn’t bother him, did it?”   
  
“Oh, honey.” His mother came around the table to him, bracing herself on it before putting her arms around his shoulders, giving him a tight squeeze, her strength coming through no matter how tired her eyes were. “Your father was never ashamed of you, or disappointed in you; he was nothing but proud. I really wish he would have told you that more often, but you know how he was.” Theodore nodded, resting his head gently on his mother’s shoulder as he blinked back tears. “He loved you. You were his son, and nothing would have changed that.”

“Thanks Mom.” Theodore rubbed at his eye with the back of his hand, rubbing the warm wetness into his cheek and forcing a smile. “Are you going to take a nap until your appointment?”   
  
“I think so. It’s getting easier, but I’m still so tired. Wake me up a half hour before we need to leave.”   
  
Theodore stayed at that big kitchen table, looking at the empty chairs, trying to draw the perfect family dinner in his mind. He regretted the years in L.A., the years with Thomas, knowing what he knew now, and wishing he could have spent them here instead, sitting around the table like they had when he was growing up. He wondered how it would feel, and what it would mean when Andrew filled one of those seats.


	14. Chapter 14

Andrew's flight came in on a particularly sunny Saturday, after a week of temperatures so high that Theodore had give up his regular wardrobe and buy tank tops and sunscreen from the nearest department store. Since his mother was still exhausted, he took Katherine to the airport with him, and they waited at the arrivals gate together, making an interesting pair. The tableau of a lithe, pale, and tattooed man holding the hand of a tall black girl in a pink sundress attracted more than a few curious glances.

When Andrew appeared, a few hours later than planned due to rain delays in Oregon, he was carrying a big bag over his shoulder and a large, round plastic container in his hand. He spotted Theodore in the crowd, a smile breaking over his face as he raised one arm and waved. Theo’s stomach jumped at seeing him, all California and Portland wrapped up in one, his honey colored hair tied back and his carelessly put together outfit of jeans and a button-down making him look as scruffy and handsome as ever. Andrew ducked around a man carrying a set of golf clubs to meet them, raising the free arm and wrapping it around Theodore tightly, leaning down to whisper fondly into his ear. "When I get you alone, I am going to kiss you so hard." Theodore's cheeks were scarlet when Andrew pulled away, and he took the plastic container when he was handed to him.

"I take it you must be Katherine?" Andrew smiled widely at her as he crouched, swinging his bag onto the ground and unzipping a pocket. “You see, this little bird told me you like panda bears, and when I saw this guy, all by his lonesome on a shelf, I thought he’d be pretty happy with you." He pulled out a stuffed panda that was clutching a few pencils decorated to look like bamboo, offering it to her gently. She glanced at Theodore, as if to ask if it was okay, and when he nodded, she took a step forward, tentative and shy, and wrapped her fingers around the panda, removing it from his grasp and clutching it to her chest, her lips curling into a very small smile.

Theodore grinned up at Andrew as Katherine hugged the stuffed animal, feeling like he’d won the lottery, wanting more than anything to just grab him and kiss him and tell him how much he missed him. "Look at you," Andrew said, standing and hefting the bag over his shoulder again. "Never thought I'd see you in a tank top.”  

"You'll understand when we get outside." Theodore handed the container back to him. "What's in there, anyway?"   
  
"I don't want to ruin the surprise, but I brought you a few things.”   
  
“You didn’t have to do that.” The addition of a gangly blond to the already unlikely duo drew the eyes of more onlookers, most of whom raised a brow and moved on, but there were several who openly stared as Theodore lead Katherine and Andrew to the luggage carousel. Andrew raised a brow at Theodore as one couple scoffed at them as they passed, and Theodore shrugged, paying them little attention.

“I did. I missed your birthday.” Andrew paused, glancing down when Katherine grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it a little, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Yes, Katherine?”   
  
“We had cake for Teddy’s birthday. Do you like cake?” She was quiet, but less so than Theodore would have expected, and he exchanged an encouraged glance with Andrew.   
  
“You know what? I do! What’s your favorite kind of cake?” Andrew asked, turning his attention quickly to the conveyor belt to see if his suitcase was on it. Katherine shrugged shyly and looked down at her panda, fiddling absently with the pencils. But she was watching him again when luggage started traveling in a slow circle around the metal carousel, and Theodore joined him, smiling.

“Don’t look now, but I think you’ve got an admirer,” he said as Andrew nudged him gently with his shoulder, clearly wanting to take his hand or put an arm around him, but holding back as yet another family passed and eyed them with suspicion.   
  
“I told you I was good with kids.” Andrew grinned toothily, leaning down and grabbing his suitcase when it appeared. “So is the shy, quiet, yet affectionate thing a family trait or...?” Theodore took Andrew’s carry-on bag and put it over his shoulder, letting Andrew have a free hand for both the suitcase and plastic container.

“Something like that,” Theodore said, putting on his sunglasses as they left the airport, squinting anyway at the midday brightness as he lead them to the car, putting Andrew’s suitcase in the trunk as Katherine clamored into the back seat, hugging the panda close. “You look great.” Theodore glanced at Andrew out of the corner of his eyes as he lifted the carry-on into the trunk, smiling a little more than he intended to, feeling the rims of his sunglasses pressing into his cheeks for how wide his grin was.   
  
"I look great, huh? Do you know how hard it is for me not to scoop you up and..." Andrew glanced at the backseat, where Katherine was sitting inside, quietly playing with the bear. "Does she know...?"   
  
"She's ten." Theodore shrugged and closed the trunk. "I'd rather she not know anything about..." He made a vague hand gesture, trailing off and closing the topic without further discussion.

The drive home was a long one, and Andrew spent it jittery and impatient, tapping his cigarettes on his knee, clearly desperate for the nicotine after the flight, but conscientious enough not to light one with Katherine in the back. He did, however, reach over to put his hand on top of Theodore's when he shifted gears, stroking it lightly with his thumb. That touch, small and without pretense as it was, set Theodore’s heart to racing, and he carefully moved his hand, the blush on his cheeks telling Andrew all he needed to know. **  
  
** Katherine burst out of the car as soon as Theodore turned off the engine, running into the house to show off her new panda as Andrew glanced around curiously, eyeing the old BMW appreciatively and hefting out his luggage when Theodore opened the trunk. He followed Theo quietly, leaving the plastic container on the kitchen table before taking his bags to the the guest room, slinging them off onto the bed.

When Theodore closed the door, Andrew was on him, grabbing him tightly and easily lifting him with an arm under his ass, pushing him against the door, his eyes tender and needy as he nuzzled against Theodore’s cheek before pressing their lips together, desperate, urgent, and hot. Theodore clung to him, wrapping his legs around Andrew’s hips to keep himself up, burying fingers into his hair, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne and aftershave, his tongue in his mouth, and the rapid pounding of his pulse.

“I missed you baby.” Andrew whispered into his lips, hand on the back of Theodore’s neck, stroking his jaw gently with his thumb. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I know.” Theodore ran his hands down Andrew’s jaw, cupping it as he kissed him, holding to him tight when Andrew nudged his head back, sucking on his earlobe, cuddling to his neck, his lips insistent on the junction of his jaw and ear. Andrew shoved their bodies together against the door, and Theodore’s grip on his shoulder was steel as his cock stiffened and his heart raced. “Mm, you have to stop.”   
  
Andrew brushed his lips against his chin. “I do?”

“It’s the middle of the day and my family is on the other side of this door.” Theodore kissed him lightly on the nose, resting his forehead against Andrew’s, closing his eyes, not eager to let him go. “I missed you too--so much.” He tilted back his head when Andrew dropped to kiss his neck again, a shiver running through him at the warmth of his tongue. “God, you smell good...why do you smell so fucking good?” Theodore pressed his face into Andrew’s hair, nuzzling it, tilting his chin to kiss him again when he lifted his head, sucking on his tongue, on his lower lip, and forgetting himself until Andrew slid his hand under Theodore’s shirt, pushing it up around his underarms. “Come on, put me down.” He loosened his grip Andrew’s waist as he backed away from the door, wobbly on his feet when they hit the floor, tugging down his shirt and wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. He smoothed Andrew’s hair, combing down the wild tendrils that he pulled from the elastic when he tugged it. “Why don’t you go outside and have a cigarette, and I’ll make sure my mom’s ready to meet you, okay?”

“Probably a good idea,” Andrew said, and kissed Theodore on the forehead. “Front yard? And hey, don’t open that tupperware, it’s a surprise. If I find you poking around in it, you don’t get any.”   
  
Theodore was in the kitchen when Andrew came back in, smelling somehow like both smoke and fresh air as he walked up behind him, putting his arms around his waist as he rinsed vegetables in the sink. “Are you making dinner for me?” He nuzzled into his hair, squeezing him tightly when Theodore reached for another bell pepper.

“I’m making dinner for everyone, yes. Feel better after that cigarette?” Andrew nodded, brushing Theodore’s hair off of his neck to kiss it. “Hey, come on now. You know I missed you, but I’d like you to meet my mom before she sees you kissing me.” Andrew let him go and backed away, rounding the counter to the kitchen table and sitting down at it, drumming his fingers absently against the wood.   
  
“Do you need some help?” Theodore shot him an unamused glare as he started slicing the bell peppers. “I meant with prep, I can do that without burning things you know.”

“I think I can handle it; I’m just making stir-fry tonight. What’s in the tupperware, anyway?” Andrew picked up the container when he stood and brought it to the counter.   
  
“Believe me, I was a surprised as you that they let me bring this onto the plane,” he said, then popped open the container, revealing one of Corvus’ signature pecan pies, grinning widely when Theodore started to laugh. The scent of molasses and toasted pecans took him back to a dozen early morning dates, drinking coffee and eating pie while Sig surreptitiously glanced at them from behind the counter, somehow showing up with coffee every time Andrew leaned over to touch him. Theodore put an arm around him, holding his hand, wet with red bell pepper juice, away from his shirt as he stood on his toes to kiss him. “Hey, what happened about waiting until I met your mom, huh?” Andrew ruffled his hair lightly, his smile a little smug as he looked down into Theo’s pale, half-lidded eyes.

“That was before you brought me pie.” Theodore returned to his cutting board, slicing off the bottom of a green pepper. “I miss Corvus, and my bed.” Theodore forced a smile, glancing quickly into the dining room to make sure nobody had walked in. “It’s been kinda rough taking care of everything. I’m not used to being responsible for anyone but myself. It’s pretty overwhelming.”   
  
“Yeah, I can tell. It breaks my heart how exhausted you sound most of the time. I know you don’t want me helping with the cooking, and really, that’s a good choice on your part, but if there’s anything I can do while I’m here to relieve some stress, let me know.”

  
“Maybe a bubble bath and a massage,” Theodore said, his tone light as Andrew opened up the fridge and took out a can of soda. “But I wouldn’t say no to help with the laundry.”

“So, this is the boyfriend I’ve heard so much about, is it?” Theodore’s mother came slowly into the dining room, leaning heavily on her cane. Even now, even exhausted and not herself, she still had the kind of smile that demanded reciprocation. Theodore flushed just slightly, looking down at the vegetables instead of at the knowing curve of his mother’s lips while Andrew set down his soda and crossed the dining room to meet her, offering her a gentle hand and letting out a surprised laugh when she pulled him in for a one-armed bear hug, her fragile appearance belying the strength underneath. “Andrew, is it?”

“Yes ma’am.” He sounded sheepishly boyish, and Theron glanced up from the cutting board, breaking into a grin at Andrew’s sudden change in personality, watching him all cute and nervous as he greeted Theodore’s mother. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Murphy.”   
  
“First ma’am and then Mrs. Murphy. You’re more polite than my doctors, and they know they’re getting money from me. Call me Moira.” He pulled out a chair for her and she sat, pressing her shaky left hand onto the table as she lowered herself down. “So Theodore tells me that you’re a nurse? Do you work in a hospital?”

"I'm an ER nurse right now, but I worked for a private practice in the past," Andrew said, sitting down across from her, an infectious smile on his face. "Theodore's father was a pediatrician, right? Did he specialize or was he a general practitioner?"  
  
"Oh, he was a pediatric oncologist." There was pride in her steady voice as she spoke, absently touching her wedding ring, a soft, sad sort of smile coming over her face. "His hospital still has the highest recovery rate for juvenile leukemia in the entire state."   
  
"Small world," Andrew said, leaning forward with interest, a note of curious surprise in his voice. "I had leukemia when I was five; it's the main reason that I went into medicine. Sounds like he was a good man."

"He was a great man." Her voice was low and wistful, and Theodore glanced at the table from where he was stir-frying chicken, catching her sad smile and sharing it.   
  
"Is that his BMW out front?" Andrew shifted in his chair, putting a foot on the opposite knee, over his initial nervousness, and sounding relaxed and charming as always.   
  
"Yes, it was supposed to be Theodore's when he graduated, but he just never seemed to have the time to fix it up."   
  
"You wouldn't mind if I took a look at it, would you? I can replace the tires if you have a jack, and I can probably do something about that bumper." Theodore looked back at the table, a curious brow raised at Andrew's offer.

"If you'd like; it's been out there for years." Moira sounded surprised and a bit impressed, and she and Andrew got into a deep conversation about cars, the subject quickly changing to California, Andrew's life in general, and how he and Theodore met. By the time dinner was done, Andrew had told Moira the entire story of Theodore’s “heroic rescue,” much to Theo’s chagrin, as he had left out some of the more foolish parts--namely the brick. The look of disapproval she shot at him from across the table was so strong that he could feel it, but Andrew had won her over, and she chatted with him as comfortably as if he were an old friend.   
  
They ate dinner around that big kitchen table with Katherine sitting between Theodore and Andrew, asking Andrew about everything from his earring, to the length of his hair, to his color of his shirt, listening intently to his answers, but shying away from actually responding when he asked her questions in return. Though she had claimed just days before to not like nuts, she eagerly ate pecan pie when Andrew served it to her, spending hours at the table just listening and watching, leaving reluctantly when Theodore reminded her that she was supposed to be reading for a book report on Monday.

Exhausted from dinner alone, Moira retreated to her bedroom while Andrew and Theodore did the dishes, standing hip to hip at the sink, Andrew throwing a hand around Theodore, getting soap on his shoulder while he kissed him fondly on the ear. After, they sat on the patio together while Andrew smoked and Theodore sipped beer, both of them ignoring the Nevada sunset in favor of one another. Theodore rested his head on Andrew's shoulder, catching the scent of smoke on his clothes and not caring, just happy to be near him again, giving up on being conscientious around his family and kissing him. He put the beer aside and Andrew stubbed out his cigarette as Theodore climbed into his lap. Theodore tasted his tongue, familiar and sweet and smokey, and found his elastic, pulling it out of his hair, brushing both hands through it, letting it fall wild around his face and just resting his chin against his shoulder while Andrew held him.

"So," Andrew said, licking his lips, pupils blown, mouth hovering over Theodore's, "do you want to see what I brought you?" Theodore nodded and they went inside, Theo checking in on Katherine, who was already curled up in bed with her book, half asleep, clutching the panda that Andrew had given her.   
  
Theodore laid on the guest bed under the ceiling fan, shirt off, overheated from the dry Nevada summer as he watched Andrew dig through his suitcase at the end of the bed. He took out a small wrapped package and crawled up to him, settling beside him and placing it on his bare chest. "Are you sure you don't want the bath and massage first?" Andrew nuzzled his ear, sliding a fond arm around his waist.

"I was only half serious about that." He took the box and flipped it over, sliding his finger under the messily taped seam, peeling the tape off of one side and sliding it out of the paper. It was long, thin, and nearly flat, and he guessed it had some kind of jewelry inside before opening it and seeing the silver medallion. He set the box to the side as he pulled it out, lacing the chain in his fingers and letting it dangle, the pendant spinning as it unraveled. "You want yours back, huh?" He asked, turning his head when Andrew cupped his chin.  
  
"Yes and no." Andrew slid his hand down to Theodore's neck, carefully unhooking the necklace and removing it, reaching over him to set it on the nightstand. "This one's different." Theodore brought the pendant closer to his face, flipping it around, scoffing lightly when he realized what it was.   
  
"Saint Valentine?" He asked, letting him take the necklace from him and clasp it around his neck, shaking his head as Andrew leaned in to brush his lips against his throat. "You're a terrible sap, you know that?"

"I know. I'm the worst. I don't know how you tolerate me." Andrew ran his hand down Theodore's chest, tracing his fingertips around the curls of his tattoo, lifting himself above him to kiss him again, eager and needy. "I must be the luckiest man alive to find someone so patient." Theodore pulled him in when their lips met, hungry for him, having almost forgotten how much he loved the weight of his body and scrape the stubble against his cheek when they kissed, his pulse already racing.  
  
"How can I ever thank you for putting up with me?" His mouth was hot on Theodore's throat, and Theo leaned into it, reaching down to grab the hem of Andrew's shirt and yank it up, his skin warm under his hands. Andrew wriggled out of it as he moved down Theodore's body, his lips light, tongue trailing a hot line down his chest, stopping to encircle a small, pale nipple until it hardened in his mouth, playfully bringing his teeth down on it, and running his fingers across Theodore's lips when he gasped, catching them on the tip of his tongue. "What'd I do to deserve you?" Andrew's voice was a low rumble against his skin, barely audible as he ran his lips down Theodore's sternum.

"I don't think it's...mm...about deserving." Theodore brushed his fingertips over Andrew's hair as he moved lower, tangling his fingers in it, parting his legs when Andrew settled between them, the weight and heat of him more than enough to make him feel sensitive and overreactive, his cock already hard to the point that where the pressure of Andrew's stomach rubbing against his jeans made him twitch and shift, and he shut his eyes against Andrew's stare, losing awareness of the swish of the ceiling fan and the rush of cars outside his window. Though those sounds no longer registered, he could clearly hear Andrew's breath on his stomach, hot and shallow, over the pounding of his pulse in his ears. The noise of his zipper being lowered tooth by tooth was astoundingly loud, and he opened an eye to look at Andrew as he pulled it down, shuddering when he nudged his mouth against him through the denim, dropping his hands limply to the side, flexing his fingers into the open air.

Andrew unbuttoned Theodore's jeans and tugged them down around his hips until he lifted them, pulling them off and tossing them onto the floor before resting back down between his legs and running his hand over his cock, brushing his lips on his inner thigh. "If it's not about deserving, what is it then?"   
  
Theodore tilted his head up to look down at him briefly, letting it fall back again when Andrew licked him through his thin cotton boxers, pressing his lips together as he groaned deep in his throat, trying to stay quiet. "Why do you ask me questions when you're touching my cock?"   
  
"Because it's fun to watch you get flustered," Andrew said, mouthing his cock through the fabric until it was damp, brushing his knuckles against Theodore's smooth inner thigh, moving to kiss it again when he shivered. "So tell me, if it's not about being deserving, what is it? I know I'm lucky, but what else?" He murmured into Theodore's thigh, tracing light, absent patterns on the other as Theodore twisted underneath him.

"You don't...deserve...someone...anyone..." Theodore said slowly, his breath hitching when Andrew slid down his boxers just enough to brush his tongue over the head of his cock. "You have me because..." He trailed off at the sensation of Andrew's tongue again on his cock, dragging down the underside so slowly that Theodore stumbled over his words, leaning his head into his arm and groaning, the heat and the throb running through his body, steady and unstoppable. “Because I want you to,” he said in a rush, “and we’re good together.”   
  
“So we are,” Andrew said tenderly, wrapping his fingers loosely around the base of Theodore's cock and stroking, slow and light as he dropped his head to run his mouth down, over his balls, gently sucking one into his mouth, then the other, rolling them carefully between his tongue and lips, glancing up at Theodore when the muscles in his thighs and stomach clenched. He had clamped his hand over his mouth, a flush on his bare neck and cheeks, the silver medallion fallen to the side from his movement. Andrew lifted his head back up, still stroking him, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum leaking from the tip of his cock as he wrapped his mouth around it, watching him intently as he screwed his eyes shut and moaned, quite loud even while covering his mouth.

Theodore was lost in the wet, hot, tightness of Andrew's mouth, in his tongue circling around the tip on the upstroke, in feeling the muscles in his throat relax and open. He had a vague thought about asking Andrew to teach him how to do that, but it was quickly lost in the rhythm of Andrew's head bobbing up and down, taking him deep then shallow, his hand stroking the base of his shaft in time with his mouth. When he pulled away, Theodore whimpered, then blushed at the noise he'd made, looking down at Andrew to try and figure out why he'd stopped.   
  
Andrew was dangling over the side of the bed, digging around in his carry-on. When he popped back up, his hair hid his eyes and he raked it back before opening the small plastic bottle and squeezing it, rubbing his fingers together as he climbed over him again, his mouth against Theodore's ear. "Do you want more?"

Nodding, Theodore tried to catch his breath as he rolled his hips up, jaw hanging slack as Andrew slid a slick finger between his legs, stroking him until he relaxed enough for him to press it in. Theodore turned to kiss Andrew, groaning in frustration as he climbed down the bed again, slowly moving the finger inside of him, his lips on his chest, on his ribs, on his hipbone, until he once again lowered himself between Theodore's legs to take his cock into his mouth, a second finger joining the first. When he started to piston his fingers and bob his head, Theodore forgot where he was, letting out a loud cry and clutching the blanket tight in his fingers, tossing his head to the side and rocking his hips against Andrew's hand.   
  
Andrew slid his free hand into Theodore's, squeezing it as he laced their fingers, and Theodore's head swam, ricocheting from sensation to fantasy, focusing on the fire and pressure in his groin to the idea of Andrew on top of him, hands under his knees to hold them back against his shoulders, driving his cock inside of him instead of his fingers. He opened his eyes, and the sight of Andrew watching him intensely, lips wrapped tight around his cock, was too much for him. He covered his mouth again when he came, groaning into it as the tension poured out of him, feeling electric and light and realizing he was trembling only when Andrew crawled over him and asked him if he was all right.  

"I'm fine--good--wonderful--I love you," he whispered between gasps, huffing through his nose when Andrew kissed him, tasting himself on his tongue, feeling a slow burn of excitement run through him at that last bit of filthy intimacy, and leaning gently into Andrew's hand on the side of his face. When it passed, leaving him so relaxed that he felt as though he could melt, he rolled to his side, sliding his bare leg between Andrew's, dropping a hand to cup him through his jeans. Andrew grabbed his wrist to stop him, and Theodore blinked at him in confusion.   
  
"Nope." Andrew nuzzled into his cheek, an arm tight around his waist as he brushed his lips feather-light against his forehead. "That was about you."   
  
"But--"

"I'll be here for a week; we've got plenty of time." Andrew let his wrist go, curling a long tendril of red hair around his fingertips. "I really just wanted to make you feel good, and relaxed, and know that I was the one doing it, okay?" Theodore nodded slightly, and Andrew pulled away from him, peeling off his shirt as he scooted to the end of the bed for his bag again. "I brought you something else," he pulling the bag onto the bed and digging around in it, tugging out a ball of fabric and throwing it at Theodore.   
  
As he unraveled it, Theodore laughed, shaking out the long t-shirt that he'd worn when he spent the night at Andrew's apartment, pulling it over his head even though he had no idea where his boxers went, and putting his arms tightly around Andrew when he came back to the head of the bed. "I'm so glad you're here," he said, resting his head on Andrew's shoulder as he turned off the bedside lamp, darkness easing him into dreamy half-consciousness, aided by the slow rub of Andrew's fingers tracing circles on his back. He woke once after falling asleep, still feeling Andrew rubbing his back, trying to say something about Andrew getting some sleep too, but his tongue too thick and unwieldy to do so. He recalled a soft hush, a whisper of  _I love you_ , and nothing more until morning.


	15. Chapter 15

“Have you ever thought about a family of your own?”   
  
Andrew and Theodore were sitting on the back porch, watching a warm Nevada sunrise, drinking coffee from oversized cups while the school bus nosily rounded the corner and Theodore’s mother slept peacefully in her bedroom. It was five days into Andrew’s visit, and though his presence alone had been enough to make Theodore feel significantly less stressed, he also ended up helping around the house a lot more than Theodore had expected him to.

Andrew took over the laundry completely, gathering it up in the morning before Katherine left, and finishing it long before she got home from school. He did dishes when Theodore was done cooking, often convincing Katherine to help before sitting down with her at the table to look over her homework. Once, Theodore returned from taking his mother to her appointments to find Andrew standing on a ladder, dusting the top of some built-in shelves with an honest-to-goodness feather duster. Moira asked him if he’d left the french maid’s costume at home, and Theodore had laughed so hard he had to brace himself on the wall.

Theodore glanced at Andrew, taking a minute to process his question before answering. “I have a family,” he said finally, cupping his coffee mug between his hands and looking out at the horizon, watching dark orange fade into yellow as the sun rose.   
  
“No, I know, but I mean a house and kids, picket fence, the American dream.” Andrew’s arm was around him again, holding him a little tighter than he needed to, like he might try and get away, like that’s what he expected to happen.

“A house wouldn’t be so bad, but I like my apartment.” Theodore rested his head on Andrew’s shoulder, scooting closer to him as Andrew gripped his side, pulling him near. “I’ve never really thought about kids, kind of always assumed that wasn’t something that was going to happen. And with Thomas…” Theodore shrugged, putting his mug to his lips again.   
  
“Just not something he wanted?”

“Not something either of us ever thought about. He’d just finished law school and I was still studying graphic design when we moved out there.”   
  
“Lawyers.” Andrew scoffed, taking a drink of his coffee and refusing to elaborate further when Theodore questioned him.   
  
Theodore didn’t need to ask why Andrew had brought up the idea of family; during this trip he had seen Andrew happy, incredibly so, and it was most obvious when he was playing with Katherine. She adored him instantly, much to the surprise of both Theodore and Moira, who had both expected a week of distant curiosity from her. She spent hours with him, playing frisbee in the back yard, or working on one of the activity books he had brought her. He was phenomenally good with her, and Theodore had glanced over once or twice to see Katherine looking at him, open and sweet, and had an errant thought about what a good father he’d make.

“Is that what you want, then?” Theodore asked tentatively, prematurely regretting this line of questioning, unsure of what his response would be if Andrew said yes. He put himself there, mentally, in a house with Andrew, going through all the daily domestic rituals with him, sitting down for dinner at a family kitchen table of his own, one big enough that their knees didn’t knock together, and one with room enough for a child to sit between them. He couldn’t visualize more than that; there were no details, like if the child would be a boy or a girl, or what they’d look like, but the mental picture made him feel a bit strange. A flush rose on his cheeks again and he turned his face into Andrew’s shoulder, wanting to hide that.   
  
“I’ve always wanted a family.” Andrew’s voice was wistful as he glanced down at Theodore, brushing his fingers lightly through his hair.

“You never talk about yours,” Theodore said, and he was unable to hide his surprise when Andrew immediately dropped his hand and stood up, walking back into the house without continuing the conversation. Theodore got to his feet and followed him, brow furrowed, feeling more than a little annoyed, reminded of sitting on Andrew’s sagging futon while he tried to downplay the fact that he’d been abused by a former lover.   
  
In the house, he found Andrew standing near the coffee machine, pouring himself another cup. “Needed a refill that badly?” He asked, frowning and leaning against the table.   
  
“You’re right, I don’t talk about my family that much.” Andrew picked up the sugar bowl and carefully tilted it against the side of the mug, shaking out some sugar instead of using a spoon. “If you knew them, you’d understand why.”

“But I don’t know them,” Theodore said carefully, watching Andrew stir his coffee and then just look at it like he was trying to figure it out. Andrew tapped his fingers on the counter, and then took his cigarettes out of his pocket and walked back outside, leaving the cup where it sat. Theodore followed him, nervous worry pooling in his stomach, making him feel cold and unsure as he slid the glass door shut and joined Andrew, watching him light a cigarette, bringing it to his lips and puffing, blowing smoke into the warm morning.   
  
“I guess I owe it to you to talk about this, huh?”

“You don’t owe me anything, Andrew.” Theodore sat down on the edge of the small porch again, hugging his knees to his chest as he watched Andrew anxiously smoke, one foot tapping rapidly as his leg shook. “But the way you…” Theodore paused as he carefully chose his words. “The way you sort of shut down when I ask you about certain things worries me. You know I love you.” He stood and joined Andrew, taking the cigarette from him and stubbing it out in a potted plant. “Out of those twenty-some relationships you had in the past, I bet none of them lasted this long, did they?”   
  
“Heh, good guess.” Andrew sounded bitter, glancing into the pot where Theodore had stuck his cigarette, tapping his fingers against the railing of the patio, jittery and at a loss of what to do with his hands.

“This one will.” Theodore cupped Andrew’s cheek and turned his head, forcing him to look down at him. “I don’t do things in half measures. I’m with you because I want to be with you a year from now, two years from now, ten years from now. But when you shut down like this…” Theodore shook his head. “I don’t like it. I don’t want to be tiptoeing around sensitive subjects for the rest of my life.” Andrew’s brows were furrowed, but not in worry or anger; his expression was inexplicable, jaw working until he just stopped and licked his lips, looking at Theodore as though he were the most complicated thing in the world. His adam’s apple bounced when he swallowed, and Theodore was thrown off balance when Andrew pulled him into a hug, leaving Theo grabbing his shoulders to keep himself up.

“You can’t understand how long I’ve wanted to hear someone say they weren’t going to just…throw me away.” Andrew’s voice was low and tremorous, and Theodore felt his breath hitch once before leveling out again. He leaned against the side of the house, still holding to Theodore like a lifeline, tilting back his chin and looking up at the muddy yellow sky. “I don’t even know where to start, Theo,” he said quietly, laughing as though he wanted it to be a joke, sounding bitter and lost despite himself. “I don’t know where to start,” he said again, this time with no attempt to sound as though he were okay.   
  
Theodore untangled himself from Andrew’s grip, sliding his hand down his arm to lightly encircle his wrist, tugging him with persistence rather than strength as he led him back into the house and deposited him at the kitchen table. He picked up Andrew’s mug of coffee, still steaming on the counter, and handed it to him, sitting in a chair next to him and leaning an elbow onto the table. “Coffee, Andrew. It always starts with coffee.”

When he laughed this time it was genuine, and he put the mug to his lips, taking a long drink before cupping it in both hands and resting it in his lap. He looked at it like it held answers. “My dad…” he said, a sardonic smirk on his face. “He’s a workaholic. Owns a big law firm down in LA still. He was never, ever home.” He sighed through his nose, pressing his lips together and shaking his head slightly, finally focusing on a spot on the wall as he spoke. “Even when I was sick, you know? He was always gone, and after 14 years of that, my mom got tired of it. I don’t blame her. If I’d understood what was going on I would have too. So my dad, who’s this big shot lawyer on top of being a vindictive son-of-a-bitch, gets every specialist in the county to claim that my mom’s incompetent. He got full custody.” Andrew took a deep breath and another drink of coffee, turning to look at Theodore. “It fucking killed her.” Theodore raised his brows and leaned forward to take one of Andrew’s hands, holding it loosely and letting him talk. “I don’t mean literally, she was still alive the last time I checked, but it’s hard to drag her out of the bottom of a bottle to make sure, you know?”

“She’s an alcoholic?”   
  
“Yeah. That was one of the things my dad accused her of. I guess she decided it might as well be true.” Andrew shrugged, and set the mug down on the table, reaching up to rake back his hair, carefully extracting his hand from Theodore’s grip. “I don’t…talk about this to anyone.”   
  
“Maybe you should,” Theodore said, standing and taking Andrew’s mug into the kitchen to refill it. “It sounds like it’s been bothering you for a while.” He stirred in the sugar and brought him the cup, setting it down on the table when Andrew refused to take it. Andrew took his hand and held it, stroking slowly without looking at him, shaking his head once again, and finally pulling Theodore closer to press his hand against his lips.

“I was always alone, Theo. I mean, I had a couple of friends, but friends have never really been enough for me…I need…” He stopped, working his jaw soundlessly, sighing through his nose when he closed his lips. “At the end of the day I’d come home to this big empty house—and we lived in a fucking mansion—with nobody there, nobody to talk to, nobody to help me with homework, nobody to eat dinner with…” He talked into Theodore’s hand, his eyes unfocused, still antsy, still jittery, shaking a leg and chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Nobody ever wants me around—I don’t want to talk about this.”

Theodore slid out of his chair and onto Andrew’s lap, easily balancing his slight weight on Andrew’s thigh, one arm around his shoulder for stability. “I want you around,” he said, simple and honest, brushing his lips against Andrew’s nose when he turned to look at him, his gaze coming back from wherever it had lost itself, catching the pale sage of Theodore’s eyes before darting off to the side again, looking inexplicably guilty.   
  
“I really don’t deserve you.” Andrew combed his fingers through Theodore’s hair, tangling them in the ends and bringing it to his lips, closing his eyes.

“I told you, it’s not about whether or not you deserve me; you have me, and you’re stuck with me for the time being, so either tell me what’s going on, or have a really good reason not to,” Theodore said firmly, feeling a measure of similar nervous jitters in his own stomach when Andrew rested his head against the arm around his shoulder, the look on his face sweet, but somewhat resigned.   
  
“I flunked out of medical school when I was twenty-three,” he said, and Theodore did a poor job of hiding his surprise. “My dad sent me to UCLA after I got my bachelors. It cost a fortune, and I guess he figured that spending money was all he needed to do to support me.”

“So you did want to be a doctor?” Theo asked carefully, recalling sitting across from Andrew in the crowded restaurant on their first date, Andrew tipping his glass at him and telling him how hard nurses worked, not answering his question about whether or not he planned to get his Ph.D.   
  
“I still do, I’m just not…” Andrew shrugged, trailing off for a minute before continuing. “I did all right in medical school, definitely not a prodigy, but I got decent grades. The head of the department was this amazing man; kind, generous, always had his office door open if you needed help, or just someone to talk to. I always needed someone to talk to.” Andrew’s face fell. “He retired at the end of my first semester and moved to Hawai’i. Without having someone there, the stress got to me. I stopped going to class, stopped answering phone calls…stopped eating. I ended up getting kicked out of the dorms, and when my dad found out, he kicked me out of the house.”

“Oh, Andrew.” Theodore cradled his head in his arm, pressing his lips to the top of it and letting them rest there, sighing gently into his hair. “I think I get it now.”   
  
“I don’t want you to think that I’m blaming everyone else for my problems, I’m not, it’s all me. I have fucked up so many times,” Andrew murmured into Theodore’s shoulder. “You’re different, Theo. I’ve never met someone like you before, and every time I start to get comfortable with you I get this feeling that something is going to go wrong. That I’m going to fuck up and I’m going to be alone again. I don’t want to be alone anymore, especially after meeting you.” Theodore stroked his hair softly, mentally putting it all together.

“I can’t promise you that we’ll always be together,” Theodore said softly, still resting his lips on his hair. “Life doesn’t work that way, and that last time I said that to somebody I ended up leaving because he cheated on me.” Andrew opened his mouth and Theodore put his fingers on his lips, hushing him. “I know you well enough to know you won’t do that. That’s not my point. I’ve said this before: I’m not going to leave you, not without a really good reason to do so, and it would have to be something pretty fucking awful too. Scorching eggs to a pan doesn’t qualify, neither does waiting until we’ve been dating for almost a year to tell me that you have issues with your family.”

Andrew didn’t respond, instead, he encircled Theodore’s waist with an arm, pulling him as near as he could in the awkward position of Theodore still sitting sideways on his lap with Andrew’s face buried into his shoulder.

“You’re not alone,” Theodore said softly. “I’m here.”

Andrew moved his head so slightly that it took Theodore a moment to register that he had nodded, and he trailed his fingers absently through Andrew’s hair, catching them on the silver chain around his neck.   
  
“Oh, aren’t you two adorable?” Theodore twisted his head around the best he could to see Moira shuffling into the kitchen, leaning on her cane. Andrew let him go, reluctantly, and he slid out of his lap and walked into the kitchen, trying to hide the blush rising on his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t mean to ruin a moment,” she said, sitting down at the big table across from Andrew, her smile stronger than the rest of her. “You know Andrew, I just want to thank you for what a help you’ve been. I can’t believe you got that old BMW up and running; I thought it would be sitting out there until Katherine graduated from college.”

“You don’t have to thank me, it didn’t really need all that much work,” Andrew said with a slight shrug. “Just needed someone who knew how to take care of it properly.”   
  
“Well. I’m certainly glad you did. I suppose that means that you and Theodore can drive it up to Portland in the next couple of days.”   
  
Theodore, who had been in the middle of opening a package of bacon, raised his head like a curious deer. “What do you mean ‘in a few days’?” he asked, giving his mother a wary glance as he set down the plastic package, briefly disappearing under the counter as he grabbed a pan.

“I’ve been fighting with my insurance for two weeks about this, but they finally agreed to pay for an in-home care assistant.”   
  
“What?” Theodore set the pan down hard on the counter top and rounded it. Andrew stood and walked to the sliding glass door, slipping out onto the porch and lighting a cigarette while Theodore stared, confused, at his mother.  
  
“You need to get back to your life,” she said gently, patting him on the knee when he sat down next to her.   
  
“Mom, you don’t need to have some stranger come in and take care of you when I’m here. I told you that this wasn’t a problem. Why would you—”

“Teddy, you know that no matter how much you argue, I’m always going to be more stubborn than you.” She held up her hand when he tried to protest. “As nice as it’s been to have you here, you can’t tell me that you don’t want to go home. I can’t keep you here forever, no matter how much I like seeing you, and all of my doctors say that I’ll be back up to one hundred percent in a few months.”   
  
“Mom—”   
  
“No. I’m not going to let you argue with me on this.” Her gaze snapped to the sliding glass door, where they could both see Andrew leaning on the railing of the patio, facing the back yard while he smoked. “I’ve felt bad enough making you come out here and take care of me, but to see the way you changed when he got here…honey, I just can’t keep you here. Don’t make me push you out of the nest—go willingly. Have a mechanic look at the BMW to make sure it’s roadworthy, then take it and Andrew home with you.”

“I don’t want to leave you with some stranger taking care of you,” he said firmly, trying not to imagine road-tripping back to Portland with Andrew in the BMW, feeling phenomenally selfish at liking the idea.   
  
“You don’t have to. I’ll make sure you meet and approve of the company and whoever they send before you go.” Moira got to her feet, still unsteady, but less than she was the prior week, and put her arms around Theodore’s shoulders tightly, kissing him on the cheek. “I just want you to be happy, and the happiest you’ve been since you got here was when Andrew showed up.” Theodore stood, hugging her gently. “But if you two get married, I want an invitation, do you hear me?” Theodore laughed, blushing to the tips of his ears as she patted him on the back.   
  
She went back into her bedroom to change out of her pajamas, and Theodore joined Andrew on the patio, smoke still hanging in the air around him though he’d finished his cigarette long before they’d ended their conversation.   
  
“So what was that all about?” he asked, slipping an arm around Theodore’s waist.   
  
“Looks like we’re going home.”


	16. Chapter 16

“But I don’t  _want_ you to leave!” Katherine held tightly to the hem of Andrew’s t-shirt as he finished rubbing a rag in wide circles over the hood of the BMW. He stood back with his hands on his hips as he gazed admiringly over the car, looking distinctly proud at the shine on the red and chrome exterior.

“I know sweetheart, and your brother and I will come visit again real soon.” Andrew crouched down, resting his arm on his knee as he looked up into Katherine’s pouty face. “But I’ve got to get back to work, I don’t want to get in trouble with my boss.” Katherine only jutted her lower lip out further. “Come on now, don’t look at me like that. You’re going to make me feel bad. Come here. Give me a hug.” Andrew opened his arms and patted Katherine gently on the back when she threw herself into them. “Can you do me a favor and go tell your mom we’re almost ready to go?” he asked, smiling when Katherine nodded and jogged up to the house, the beads on her braids bouncing against the back of her neck. Theodore squeezed past her as she opened the door and ran into the house, calling for Moira at the top of her lungs.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was going to miss you more than me. As a big brother, I’m not really sure of what to think about that.” Theodore set his suitcase on the ground as he looked at the car. “It’s hard to believe that was sitting out here for thirty-some years. The mechanics said everything was fine?”

“No rust, no nothing, it seems like Nevada weather is good to cars. The mechanic said if she’d been sitting outside in Detroit she would be scrap by now, but here…” Andrew grinned. “They cleaned her up, got all the dust out of her, did an oil change, and filled all the fluids.” Slinging the waxy towel over his shoulder, Andrew gestured grandly towards the car. “I had them put in a new stereo too, so she’s even better than new. You’re a lucky man.”

“I didn’t know that you were so interested in cars.” Theodore rounded the side of the car and unlocked the trunk, lifting it up so he could put his suitcase inside, still marveling that this was the same car that had been sitting in his parents driveway for as long as he could remember. Andrew shrugged and joined him behind it.   
  
“One of my exes was a mechanic. He taught me a lot about cars, and when I had one of my own I never had the money to take it in, so I learned how to fix stuff pretty quickly.”   
  
“Then I guess what makes me lucky is that I have such a useful boyfriend.”

Katherine jogged back into the front yard, the screen slamming against the heavy wooden door as she burst out of it, carrying the plastic container that had held the pecan pie. “You forgot this!” she said as she handed it to Andrew, her dark eyes wide with admiration as he ran his hand gently over her hair. Moira appeared in the doorway a few moments after her, followed closely by Patricia, the sweet young woman that Theodore had met and thoroughly approved of at the in-home care company.

“It’s going to be awfully quiet without you two here,” Moira said fondly as she slowly made her way to the car, putting an arm around Theodore and giving him a vigorous pat on the back. “I might just have to ask Katherine to bring some friends over so I don’t feel like the house is empty.”   
  
“I can stay as long as you want—” Theodore began, trailing off into laughter when his mother tweaked his nose.

“Don’t you start that with me, you know I’ve already put my foot down on this. You’re going home. I’ll just keep the radio on more often.” She gave him another hug, a gentler one this time, then turned to Andrew. “I never thought I’d see the day that this car would be up and running again. Couldn’t be going home with a nicer couple of people.” The expression that passed over Moira’s face was hard to read as she opened her arms to Andrew, waiting as he bent down to hug her. Theodore caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eyes as he loaded Andrew’s bag into the trunk, and thought that he might have seen Moira whisper something into Andrew’s ear. He closed the trunk and walked around to them, hugging Katherine when she ran up to him.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Moira, and you too Katherine. You be good to your mom, okay, because if I get a phone call saying you’ve been acting up, I’m going to find it very hard to send a friend for Mr. Pandaface, okay?”   
  
Katherine nodded solemnly at Andrew as he addressed her, and when he walked to the car and slid into the passenger seat, she gave him a frantic wave. He returned it with less hopping and pouting, but a wide grin spread over his face as Theodore climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the engine over. Andrew grabbed the map that was tucked under the visor and unfolded it as they pulled out of the driveway, giving Katherine and Moira one last wave as they took off down the street.

The digital read-out of the new radio looked anachronistic against the faux wood paneling when Andrew turned it on, tuning to a classic rock station, but the music was loud and crisp and he cranked the volume enough to hear it over the wind rushing through the open windows. He drummed his hands contentedly against his legs, an unlit cigarette hanging loosely between his lips as he largely ignored the scenery in favor of watching Theo drive. Theodore was eminently focused on the road, his long hair pinned up and big dark sunglasses perched on his nose, but he tapped his thumbs along with the beat on the steering wheel.

“So,” Andrew said, turning the radio down and leaning the seat back, stretching out with his hands folded behind his head, “are you going to use your sexy new car to pick up your boyfriend at the end of his shift?”  
  
“We’ll see.” Theodore glanced at the map, haphazardly folded and stuffed back under the visor. “So how long are we going to drive before we switch off?”   
  
“You probably don’t want me driving for long stretches at a time; my driver’s license expired about four years ago.”   
  
Theodore shot Andrew a look, his brows furrowed behind the big sunglasses. “You drove the car to the mechanic!”

“It wasn’t that far!” Andrew said with a laugh and a little shrug, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and twiddling it between his fingers. “You were busy and I wanted to get the car ready as soon as possible. I know you want to get home, and if I’d waited we would have had to hang around another day.”   
  
“Yeah, I get that, but I was under the impression that I’d drive for about eight hours, then sleep while you drove. We’ll have to stop at a hotel or something now.” Theodore glanced at a billboard as he spoke, returning his attention quickly to the road. “We’ll have to eat at some point in time too.”

“I told Willa I wouldn’t be back for another week. I’m apparently going to be on some kind of probation for asking for time off at the last minute, but as long as I’m home somewhere in the next three days I can make it up to her by being on call. So, if you ask me, we should just enjoy the road trip. It’s only about a seventeen or twenty hour drive, depending on traffic.”

Theodore chuckled, somewhat exasperated, but when Andrew put his hand on top of his, Theodore released the gear shift and gave it a squeeze, holding it while they cruised down the freeway together, only releasing it when Andrew dozed off. He turned the radio off while Andrew slept, driving in silence, watching the passing billboards advertise everything from national fast food restaurants, to unique tourist traps, to gambling, and lots and lots of brothels, glancing occasional at Andrew out of the corner of his eye to see his head slumped slack against his shoulder.

When he started to get hungry, Theodore pulled off the freeway, following signs that promised fuel, “home cooking,” and, “bottomless refills on coffee.” The place was hard to miss, it had a garish neon sign displaying the name “Lloyd’s” in letters so big that Theodore wondered if Lloyd had bought them secondhand from the Vegas casinos. Though the restaurant itself was off the beaten path, the parking lot was nearly full, and through the large windows Theo could see a crowd of people sitting at cozy booths and large tables.   

Once he’d parked and turned off the car, he reached across the center console and shook Andrew’s shoulder lightly. Andrew groaned, stretched, and squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through the windshield. “How long have I been sleeping?” he asked, slurring his speech, his tongue sleepy and dry in his mouth. Theodore brushed a few strands of hair out of Andrew’s eyes as he woke, smiling back at him when they met eyes with one another.

“About four hours.” Theodore took the keys out of the ignition before sliding out of the car, stretching his arms over his head, his spine cracking audibly as he twisted from side to side, working out the stiffness that came from sitting in one position for too long. “I figured if we eat here and get some gas I can probably drive for five or six hours before we need to stop and sleep,” he said once Andrew had unfolded himself and stepped outside of the car. Andrew yawned into the back of his hand, nodding as he came around to put an arm around him. “Come on,” Theo said softly, gently worming out of Andrew’s grasp. “Let’s go get some food.”

Lloyd’s was raucous for a roadside diner; one of the large, circular booths had a group of older men in trucker hats sitting at it, playing cards and cackling with laughter like white haired, sun-shriveled hens. A young woman with red hair a few shades lighter than Theodore’s met them at the door, handed them menus, and pointed to an empty booth behind one of the big glass windows, saying that they should seat themselves and she’d be with them in just a moment. They wound their way around patrons standing to pay at the cash register and harried servers carrying large trays of food, sliding into the booth just in time to make room for a young man carrying a couple of milkshakes with at least three inches of whipped cream on top.

“I love these kind of places,” Andrew said, opening the menu and looking at it with the intensity of a small child with a picture book. “They have the best food, sell it for cheap, and don’t mind if you hang out all day so long as you can pay. Roadside diners like this were my absolute favorite when I was hitchhiking.”   
  
“Hitchhiking.” Theodore stared at Andrew incredulously while he glanced over his menu, excited and energetic despite having just woken from such a long nap. “When did you hitchhike?”   
  
“A little after finishing my ASN; trying to find my way up the coast without a car was pretty hard and I wanted to get the hell out of LA. I was just so sick of that city and the people in it—everyone is so smug and rich and…” Andrew glanced up at Theodore, suddenly sheepish. “I didn’t tell you I hitchhiked before, did I?”

“I think I would have remembered that.” Theodore closed the menu and sat back, easily folding his legs underneath him in the big, cushy booth.   
  
“Ah, well. I did it while trying to leave LA and after leaving San Francisco. That’s how I got up to Oregon actually. You’d be surprised how many people are willing to give someone a ride without pretense. I mean, I wouldn’t recommend it; it helps that I’m tall and look like I could probably handle myself in a fight—”   
  
“No you don’t,” Theodore said with a smirk.

“I’ll have you know that I could have taken that addict if he hadn’t sucker punched me after a twelve hour shift. Glad he did though.”  
  
“That sounds like the kind of story you tell at a bar after a few rounds.”   
  
Both men looked up to see the same waitress they’d met at the door standing at the end of their booth, her thin, red brow raised in amusement. “Now that I’ve got your attention,” she said with a small smirk, cocking her hip as she pulled out a small notepad and a pen from her apron, “I’m Bella and I’ll be your waitress this afternoon, what can I get you boys to drink?”

“A pot of coffee, please,” Theodore said, then glanced at Andrew, who nodded. She jotted down a quick note and nodded, saying she’d be back to get their orders in a moment. “By the way, what did my mom say to you when we were leaving?” Theodore asked, pushing the menu to the side of the table as he watched Andrew searching through the menu.   
  
“Huh? Oh, she said—hey! They have chicken fried steak!” Andrew spun the menu around to show Theodore, his finger just above a picture of a piece of breaded meat covered in pale gravy. “I haven’t had that since I left LA.” He closed the menu and put it aside, glancing around for Bella.   
  
“My mother?” Theodore asked, rapping his knuckles lightly on the table to get his attention.

“Oh! Right!” Andrew leaned back against the bench seat, his eyes wandering as he watched a family wheel out a small, quiet child in a stroller. “She told me that if I ever hurt your feelings, she was going to come up to Portland and make me regret the day I was born.” Andrew laughed at Theodore’s glare, then put his hands up in a gesture of defeat. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. She told me that it was a pleasure to have met me and asked me to take good care of you.”   
  
“I don’t need taking care of,” Theodore said, reaching behind the napkin holder to pick up the dessert menu, unfolding it without looking at Andrew.

“I know that. She knows that too. But I think that’s about the closest anyone can come to saying that they accept and approve of a relationship without being all stuffy about it.” He glanced up at Bella as she returned with a pot of coffee and a couple of cups.   
  
“I see you two look like you know what you want, what can I get you?” She scribbled their orders onto her note pad, nodding and asking a few additional questions, like if Andrew wanted home fries or mashed potatoes, and what kind of bread Theodore wanted his turkey club on. “And what kind of pie will you two be having?”   
  
“Oh uh, I wasn’t sure I was going to want dessert,” Andrew said with a polite smile, handing her the menus.

“Come on now, you don’t come to a place like this because you’re watching your weight. You’re going somewhere, and you’re going to regret not trying the pie once you get there.” She twirled the pen between her fingers as she waited for an answer.   
  
“We’ll try the caramel apple,” said Theodore, nodding politely as she jotted it down and walked away. “So I figured that I’ll drive for another six hours or so, and then we’ll get some dinner and find a hotel.” He poured a cup of coffee for himself, picking up the sugar dispenser and sifting some into the cup. “We’ll get an early start and hopefully get back to Portland by tomorrow night.” He picked up the cup and blew on the contents.

“I’ll have to make sure you get that bubble bath and massage when we get back to your house.” The corner of Andrew’s lips curled into a smile when Theodore laughed softly behind his coffee cup.   
  
Their food came out quickly despite the fact that the restaurant was tremendously busy, no small feat considering how far it was from the nearest town. Theodore and Andrew ate quietly, unable to hold a conversation because the group of card-playing old men in the corner had gotten into a squabble about the proper rules for playing the queen of hearts. But there was little need to talk anyway; the food had that diner style homemade quality, with Andrew’s steak swimming in gravy and Theodore’s sandwich piled high with thick slabs of roast turkey, and it kept them plenty occupied.  

“So where is it that you two are heading?” asked Bella when she brought them both slices of thick apple pie, redolent with cinnamon and dripping with caramel. “Everyone who comes here is heading somewhere, so don’t try and tell me you’re just here for the food and the ambiance.”   
  
“We’re on our way to Portland,” Andrew said, handing her his empty plate, taking a quick glance from her to Theodore to watch him raising his brows at the enormous piece of pie. Bella followed his gaze.   
 **  
**“Portland huh? You two have a hell of a drive in front of you.” She shifted to the other foot as another server passed her, harried and carrying a tray piled high with french fries. “Do you live in Portland?” Theodore nodded, prodding at the pie with his fork, poking apples out from inside the crust. “Well good. It’s always nice to see someone on their way home. You two enjoy that and you pay whenever you’re ready. Thanks for stopping by.”

They tipped her well when they left, full to bursting, and six hours later, after Theodore drove until he couldn’t stand to do so anymore, they found a motel just off the freeway and checked in. It was older and somewhat rundown, obviously not the kind of place that got a lot of business, but the room was clean, despite the hideous floral wallpaper that didn’t match the hideous floral bedspread. Theodore kicked off his shoes and peeled off his pants, flopping down onto the bed with an exhausted groan, pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it was. As Andrew disappeared into the bathroom, Theodore replayed Bella’s words in his mind, staring absently the ceiling, getting lost in his thoughts.  
  
He had nearly drifted off when a noise got his attention and he glanced over to see Andrew coming out of the bathroom in a towel, hair dripping, stubble a bit over-long from not shaving as frequently as he normally did, and all he could do was smile.

“Come here,” he said, and Andrew did, lying next to him and wrapping him up with wet arms, giving him wet kisses, and looking at him like a besotted schoolboy. “That wasn’t an invitation to climb all over me and slobber, you’re not a puppy.” Andrew growled playfully in response and eased Theodore onto his back to climb atop him, the towel falling to the side. He brushed a drop of water off his cheek when it fell from his damp hair, and Theodore smiled, then exhaled slow and content through his nose when Andrew’s lips covered his.   
 **  
**Andrew liked his showers scalding, and he was hot to the touch when he nuzzled in, smelling like unfamiliar soap and shampoo—the perfume of hotel bathing. As he kissed him, Theodore’s mind drifted; it was easy to forget himself with Andrew’s tongue in his mouth, the weight of him pressing him into the soft mattress, his hands traveling familiar paths along his body to slide under his shirt, gently tracing the ridges of ribs and tickling his stomach with a feather-light brush of his nails. He indulged him, drifting into a place of lulled, fuzzy headed sweetness where the warmth and the eagerness of Andrew’s touch was as necessary as breathing.

It was strange to come to a revelation in that unfamiliar bed, but when Andrew’s teeth came down on his neck just hard enough for him to react, he opened his eyes to the white ceiling, noticing a water stain and imperfections in the paint. Then he closed his eyes again, tasting the mint and the ghost of cigarette smoke on Andrew’s tongue, and letting himself have the thought that was creeping around the edges of his mind.  
  
 _I don’t want this to ever end._  
  
“Hey,” he said, soft and breathy. “Andy.”

Andrew’s attention was quickly wrested from Theodore’s chest, where he was brushing his lips against his tattooed collarbone. “Andy” was private and sweet, a simple pet name, proof that Theodore’s creativity began and ended with his artistic endeavors, but when he said it, Andrew thought that he might die happy if that was the last thing he heard.  
  
“I want you to move in with me.” Theodore cupped Andrew’s jaw as he spoke, holding his gaze, offering Andrew a small nod when his eyes widened, brows raising.

“Really?” Andrew asked, his voice rich with tentative excitement. “Wow.” He laughed, putting his hand over his face, and when Theodore brushed it away there was a pale blush on his cheekbones. “Are you sure? You won’t get sick of having me around?”   
  
“My office has a lock on the door,” Theodore said, quirking a smile, teasing, burying his fingers in Andrew’s hair when Andrew kissed him again, hard and full of promise, only pulling away when Theodore’s chest raised roughly from a shaky, urgent gasp of air through his nose.

“You are just…” Andrew dropped his gaze and rested his cheek against Theodore’s. “You are one of the best things to ever happen to me.”   
  
“I don’t think that I ‘happened to you’,” Theodore said as he absently combed his fingers through Andrew’s hair, closing his eyes and letting Andrew’s warmth and weight lull him. Andrew was too big to lie on top of him like that, but he never cared; he’d fallen asleep underneath him more times than he could count. He yawned, then kissed his cheek. “If either of us is a force of nature, it’s you. You’re a whirlpool—I just got caught in you.”

Andrew laughed again, his lips on Theodore’s ear. “I’m glad for that, then,” he murmured, running his hands down Theodore’s sides to rest on his hips, then slide between his legs, stroking his inner thighs, feather-light but eager. “Can I move in as soon as we get back?”   
  
“Yeah—ahh, hey.” Theodore reached between his legs to grab Andrew’s wrist, stopping him as he tried to pull down his boxers. “Andy, I just drove for ten hours. I love you, but I’m just not up for it.”   
  
“Mmm, but when will we get another chance to fuck in a cheap hotel with twenty year old wallpaper?” Andrew’s tone was joking, but his cock was hard and hot against Theodore’s thigh. He rolled to the side, moving off of Theodore to rest next to him. “I guess I’m a little over-excited,” he said, stroking Theodore’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Theodore nuzzled up to him, feeling the rabbit-thump of Andrew’s heart in his chest. He glanced up at him, catching his gaze and returning his smile. “You know, just because I’m fine without sex doesn’t mean we can’t do something.”  He kissed him lightly, sliding one hand down his bare side and resting it on his hip. “Besides, we have an opportunity now.”   
  
“What kind of opportunity, exactly?” Andrew asked, curiously watching Theodore’s expression change to one that was a little shy, but playfully so.

“Ever since that night, on the phone, before you came to visit…” Theodore brushed his lips against his ear, catching the lobe and his earring with his tongue. “I’ve kinda wanted to watch you jack off.” The shyness left Theodore’s smile at the hitch in Andrew’s breath, and he gave his earlobe a small tug. “Can I watch?”   
  
“You make this sound a lot kinkier than it is,” Andrew murmured, tilting his head slightly when Theodore pulled at his ear, shifting so that he was lying more on his back, getting comfortable. “I think you could make doing taxes sound sexy.”  He sighed through his nose as Theodore dragged his lips down to his jawline, then his neck, turning his head to give him room. “Are you watching?” he asked, waiting for Theodore to nod against his shoulder before he wrapped his fingers around his cock, closing his eyes, almost nervous to have someone looking at him.

“What are you thinking about?” Theodore asked, his lips again on Andrew’s ear, slowly rubbing circles over his chest, looking down his body to watch Andrew’s hand sliding up his cock. “What do you usually think about?”   
  
“You—fucking you.” Andrew licked his lips, wrapping his other arm around Theodore so he could get in closer, exhaling through his nose when Theodore ran his nails across his stomach.   
  
“Just me?” Theodore’s mouth was on Andrew’s shoulder, but his attention was focused on the rhythmic glide of Andrew’s hand, on the way he closed it on the upstroke, enveloping the tip and blocking it from Theodore’s view.

“Other people, sometimes,” he admitted, catching his lower lip with his teeth and holding it for a second. “Just…random people. Guys in coffee shops. Women on the bus.” He turned, pressing his face into Theodore’s hair, tensing his stomach and rocking his hips forward when Theodore squeezed his thigh, his fingers firm. Theodore cupped the back of his head with his other hand and covered Andrew’s mouth with his own, forceful and insistent, pushing his tongue between Andrew’s lips, stopping only when Andrew groaned. He pulled back, and Andrew’s eyes slid open partway as he lifted his head to try and meet his lips again.   
  
“I can’t see if I’m kissing you.” Theodore sat up a little, rubbing the flush on Andrew’s collarbone. “I never noticed that you get all red like this. I guess I’m usually preoccupied. Andrew closed his eyes again, his adam’s apple bouncing when he swallowed hard. “Andy,” Theo whispered, nuzzling against his ear. “This is really…mmm.” He kissed his ear and ran his hand down, turning to look as he felt the muscles in Andrew’s stomach tense and release when he touched it. “Maybe we when get home, I’ll do this for you. Would you like that?”

“Oh…fuck…” Andrew huffed, tossing his head to the other side, his breath catching when Theodore licked his earlobe again. When Theo bit down, the arm around his waist tensed up a bit, and Andrew abruptly sped up his pace, moving his hand in short, quick strokes. Theodore glanced between Andrew’s furrowed brow and parted lips, then to his body, where his hips were rolling, pushing his cock into his hand.   
  
“Come here,” Theo whispered, and kissed him when he turned his head, dropping his hand to lace his fingers with Andrew’s, and the extra pressure, or sensation, or just the knowledge that Theodore couldn’t help himself was enough to push him over the edge. Andrew dug his fingers into Theodore’s side when he came, groaning into his mouth, nuzzling into Theo’s shoulder when he pulled away for air.   
  
“I thought you wanted to watch,” Andrew said as he reached for the towel, releasing Theodore’s side.   
  
Theo laughed quietly. “I changed my mind.”   
  
“I didn’t know you were so fickle.” Andrew stretched out, putting his forearm over his mouth when he yawned.   
  
“You better get used to that.” Theodore laughed, teasing, kissing Andrew’s cheek as he took the towel from them.   
  
Andrew only chuckled and pulled him in. They drifted off together, fingers laced once again.


	17. Chapter 17

Other than his clothes, the steamer trunk, and the ratty old quilt sitting atop of it, Andrew had precious few possessions. He claimed no attachment to old television, the futon, or the dishes, but Theodore insisted they keep the cat and Christmas tree mugs for sentiment’s sake. They spent a long afternoon at Andrew’s storage closet sized apartment, boxing the plates and silverware for Goodwill, and giving the place a deep cleaning so that Andrew could get his deposit back.

Before folding the futon and carrying it out to the trash, Andrew jokingly suggested they ought to have sex on it at least once, to “give it a proper send-off,” an idea that Theodore was much more interested in than Andrew anticipated. It ended up being too much stress for the old thing; one of the slats broke while they fucked, and the mattress under Theodore’s shoulders slipped down to the floor, ruining the mood, but making them both laugh so hard that tears rolled down their cheeks.

There was a closet in Theodore’s office because it was technically the second bedroom, and after moving a few things around, Theodore was able to store enough of his lesser used items in there to give Andrew room for his clothes in the bedroom closet. The cups went in the kitchen, sitting in the cupboard above the coffee maker inside of Theodore’s giant mugs, and the steamer trunk went in the office along with the quilt on top of it.

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” Theodore asked, shaking dust out of the quilt before folding it up to put it in the trunk with some winter clothes and a few mementos. “It’s nice, but it looks like it’s been around forever.”   
  
“My mom made it when she was pregnant with me,” Andrew said, paging through a photo album with a slightly concerned look on his face. “She took it with her when they divorced, and she gave it to me when I got my ASN, along with the pendant.”

“I thought you didn’t get to see your mother after the divorce.” Theodore set the quilt in his lap, looking at the different patches, realizing that despite the age and wear, it was well-made. Obviously someone spent some time on it.   
  
“I lived with her when my dad kicked me out. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Andrew sighed and closed the photo album, offering it to Theodore, who took it curiously. “She was drunk most of the time, sick when she wasn’t, but it was a roof over my head while I went to community college to get the nursing degree. It was…bad. I didn’t realize how awful it would be to live with her. I didn’t realize how much she’d changed. Sometimes, she’d try, you know? She’d be her old self again for a day or two, and then it was back to passing out in the hallway.”  

“I’m sorry.” Theodore opened the photo album and paged through it slowly, looking at pictures of Andrew as a child, the majority of them taken in a doctor’s office or hospital of some kind, where he sat, smiling sadly, and bald as an egg, thin and sickly.  
  
Andrew shrugged. “It’s over and done with.”   
  
Though Theodore had intended to just pack the quilt away, it ended up in his bedroom, draped over the back of the chair near his dresser. It didn’t match anything, and that was okay. Nothing of Andrew’s matched Theodore’s; it was all too big and too worn out. Andrew’s side of the closet was filled with scrubs and faded t-shirts, the drawers over-stuffed with jeans in varying levels of wear, most with at least a few holes, some completely falling apart.

That bubble bath that Andrew kept promising? They took it together—Theodore’s tub was more than big enough for the two of them, and Andrew got in first, stretching out his legs and bending them at the knee to make room for Theodore to climb in between them. They soaked sore muscles and Andrew rubbed Theodore’s shoulders while they talked about the mundane things that were now somehow exciting when prefaced with the words: “now that we live together…” It was boring conversation. Who would pay for the groceries and gas? Who would do laundry? If Andrew wasn’t cooking—and Andrew definitely wasn’t cooking—how often would Theodore make dinner? Little things, general housekeeping, peppered with bigger, more important questions, like whether it was really necessary to use condoms all the time if they both got tested, and whether it was all right for Andrew to talk about moving in with his boyfriend at work. ****  
  
Halfway in between finishing their bath and deciding they’d done enough for the day, they came up with some answers. Theodore didn’t care who Andrew talked to about their relationship, a concern that Andrew admitted was left over from dating a few heavily closeted men, including the one in San Francisco. They both agreed that if the relevant STD tests came back negative, then condoms weren’t necessary all the time, and Andrew told Theodore he could wear his clothes any time he wanted, a request he hadn’t expected Theo to make, but one he didn’t mind anyway, especially after watching him pick out an old faded t-shirt to put on after their bath.

It was the intimacy of silly things, little things, that got to them most. The look of Theodore’s clothes hanging small and neat next to Andrew’s, Andrew’s chipped cups nestled carefully in Theodore’s pristine, white coffee mugs, and two sets of wet footprints on the bathmat instead of just the one made them giddy and drunk on it, laughing and putting their arms around one another for nothing, just to breathe it in.

By the end of the day they were exhausted, so they ordered pizza and ate it while watching a movie on the couch, spending their first night living together sleeping in the living room, under an afghan, while infomercials droned in the background. They woke early to morning sun streaming through the front window, and got up just long enough to walk down the hall to the bedroom so they could go back to sleep in Theodore’s bed. When they properly woke later, Theodore slowly made his way to the kitchen to find Andrew making coffee, a skill that, despite his protests about the coffee machine, he seemed to have mastered.  
  
As Andrew predicted, Willa was unhappy with having his vacation leave lengthened at the last minute. Andrew was placed on a modified schedule, filling in at odd hours for those who’d done the same for him, and though he had been working a fairly regular schedule of day shifts when he left, he was now on call “for the foreseeable future,” as Willa put it.

“I hope that vacation was worth it,” Theodore said after hearing the news.   
  
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”   
  
“Not sure if that makes you romantic or foolish.”   
  
“Probably a little of both,” Andrew said, shrugging, resigned to his fate of night shifts and keeping his beeper on him at all times. **  
  
** For a week, Theodore barely saw him during the day. He’d arrive home late at night, carefully fumbling his way to bed so as to not wake Theodore, who always woke anyway. They’d sleep in together until late in the morning, when Theodore would make breakfast and send Andrew, still tired, but at least full and somewhat rested, back to work.  ****  
  
As it always happened in late November, Theodore’s business picked up due to several of his clients wanting holiday designs for their websites or logos, and he fell back into the habit of spending long hours at the PC with giant mugs of coffee, working until his eyes blurred and his wrist was sore. Occasionally Andrew would come home to find him slumped in his computer chair, shake him awake, and make sure he got something to eat before taking him to bed.

Between Theodore’s business and Andrew’s schedule, they saw very little of one another, leaving Andrew to quip that they just should have stayed in Nevada until after the holidays, no matter how much trouble it would have gotten him into. He said it in a tone of voice that suggested that he was far more serious than he would let on, and when he was scheduled to work from five in the afternoon to one am on Thanksgiving, he got downright despondent, refusing to listen to Theodore’s suggestions about alternative ways to celebrate.  
  
Theodore knew what he wanted; he wanted tradition, a turkey on a kitchen table, jellied cranberry sauce out of a can, and all the other trappings of an American family Thanksgiving. Because despite the asshole father and alcoholic mother, Theodore knew that Andrew considered him the closest thing he had to family, and to have not just a holiday, but the first one they’d be spending together, ruined by circumstance left him strikingly upset.

Theodore didn’t try to console him or otherwise convince him that it wasn’t important. Stories about casual dinners at the Murphy household would have only made things worse, and Theo didn’t feel like Andrew had to justify it anyway. He understood, if only in theory, why something that seemed so insignificant to him would be so important to Andrew, and once he’d gotten a few projects out of the way, he called a nearby deli and made some preparations.   
  
After Andrew went to work on Thanksgiving, Theodore dropped by the deli and bought a half pound of roast turkey and a loaf of bread, stopping at the grocery store for boxed stuffing mix and jellied cranberry sauce. By nine, the stuffing was chilled and he made a couple sandwiches, wrapped them in paper towels to keep them from falling apart, then stuffed them into a tupperware container. He tied his hair back, and dressed well for once, in a pair of nice slacks and a button-down shirt, then packed the sandwiches, a few plastic cups, and a bottle of sparkling apple cider into a messenger bag with his company logo on it.

The receptionist gave him an impressive side-eye, remembering him from when he’d been caught on the roof with Andrew, and when he asked for Andrew Starka she narrowed her eyes and pressed a button on her phone.   
  
Theodore paced in the waiting room under the industrial florescent lights, quietly looking at the clean, white fixtures, the abstract paintings and cushions on chairs offering splashes of green and blue. He adjusted his bag, the strap crossed over his chest like a sash, waiting for word from the receptionist regarding Andrew. He was prepared to wait until a break or lunch, convinced that surprising Andrew would be worth any minor inconvenience to him.

An older woman approached him with such conviction in her step that he stood up a little straighter, ready to address her if she asked him to. She had snow white hair pulled into a tight matronly bun, and a face that looked younger than he felt it ought too, finely lined and proud, dressed up only with a splash of red lipstick that would have looked garish on anyone with less authority in their face.   
  
“You must be Theodore,” she said, taking her hand out of her lab coat and extending it to Theodore. He paused, but only for a moment, before taking it, expecting her handshake to be firm and uncompromising, and finding it so. “Andrew has said a lot about you.”   
  
“I wouldn’t be surprised about that. I hope you haven’t gotten sick of hearing about me. If I know Andrew, he’ll probably have a lot more to say.” Theodore shifted the weight of his bag a bit, hoping that the sparkling cider would at least be chilly by the time Andrew was free. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know your name.”

“Willa,” she said, putting her hands back into her pockets and procuring a medical beeper out of one of them. “I’m Andrew’s supervisor.”  
  
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard a lot about you as well.”   
  
“Probably not as glowing, I’m sure.” Willa smiled a little, the smile of a stern woman used to being in a position where she had to be in control to keep things going, and he wondered suddenly if she had children. People were never as one-dimensional as they seemed when talking to someone else about them, and he got the feeling that Andrew’s characterization of her of authoritarian attitude was fair, but hardly the whole story. Theodore only shrugged. “He’s one of our best nurses you know,” she said, the tone of her voice suggesting the praise was genuine, if not a bit understated.   
  
“I don’t doubt that.” Theodore’s lips curled into a half-smile, breaking into a grin when he saw Andrew walking down the hall, the tension melting out of his face when he saw Theodore.

“Nice to meet you, Theodore,” Willa said, glancing over her shoulder to see Andrew ducking around a nurse pushing a wheelchair. She turned and met him halfway, and Theodore heard her tell him to go on lunch. He smiled.   
  
“Hey, wow, you clean up nice when you want to. Here I thought you didn’t wear anything but sweatshirts out of the house,” Andrew said, teasing, wrapping one arm around Theodore for a friendly hug, laughing and surprised when Theo stood on his toes to kiss him on the cheek, whispering that they should go up onto the roof again.   
  
“It’s cold,” Andrew said, glancing suspiciously from side to side, making Theodore think that he ever really needed something done in confidence, Andrew was probably not the best person to ask.   
  
“That’s fine. Can we?”

Andrew nodded and led Theodore to the elevator, shifting on the balls of his feet while he waited for it to arrive. It was empty, and when they got in and the doors slid shut Andrew turned to him, looking like an excited puppy.   
  
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, poking the button for the roof. “I figured you’d be working.”   
  
“I take a break now and then, you know.”   
  
“You take a break to make yourself fucking handsome as hell, is what you do. No wonder you usually wear sweatshirts, you’d have people asking you out on the street.” Andrew looked him over again. “I can see your tattoos through your shirt…”   
  
“ _That_  is why I don’t dress like this very often. When I have to go somewhere professional I wear a jacket or something, not that that happens often.”

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Though he’d only been up there once, the roof of the hospital was familiar to Theodore, just stepping foot on the rough concrete brought back that chilly night and the smell of cigarettes, Andrew’s tongue in his mouth, and the annoyed security guard. Theodore took Andrew’s hand and led him into the cool air, finding the spot they’d sat to watch the stars.   
  
“I don’t want you to feel like our first major holiday together was ruined because of work,” Theodore said, sitting down and opening his bag, pulling out the cider and plastic cups. Andrew sat across from him, laughing, taking a cup and holding it like it was puzzling.   
  
“I can’t believe you sometimes.”   
  
“Unbelievability was never something I strove for,” Theodore said with a shrug, pulling out the tupperware and handing it to him. “But I think I kind of like it.”   
  
They ate together, chilly and windblown, drinking half-warm sparkling cider out of plastic cups, the tips of their ears and noses freezing, enjoying their cobbled together celebration as they watched Portland quiet and still beneath them.   
  
It was perfect.


	18. Chapter 18

“I think we ought to get a cat.”  
  
Theodore looked up from the sketchpad where he had been designing an invitation to the annual Corvus Christmas party. So far, he had five different ideas sketched out, all starring the unofficial mascot of the café partaking in traditional holiday activities; holding a mug of cocoa with marshmallows, sitting in front of a fire, decorating a tree, wrapping presents, and dancing with another crow, both wearing red Santa hats.  
  
December was cold in Portland, and though Theodore’s apartment had central heating, he preferred to keep it off when they were in the living room, instead using a space heater that was designed to look like a wood-burning stove, orange light flickering through fake logs, the closest to a fireplace they could have in Theo’s building. They were sitting in front of it now, Theodore swimming in one of Andrew’s old sweaters, Andrew lying with his feet on Theodore’s lap, watching some awful made-for-television romance movie that he was entirely too invested in.  
  
Theodore set his sketchpad down on the arm of the sofa, sitting back as Andrew scooted further into his lap, his knees draped over Theodore’s thighs, moving to pull up the collar of the sweater when it drooped, stopping when Andrew pressed his lips to his bare shoulder, and then rested his chin on it, nuzzling in. Andrew brushed his fingers over the edge of the sweater, fond and pleased with seeing his clothes on Theodore—a common occurrence, even if they were all so big on him that they made him look even smaller than usual.  
  
They both had their little affections; Theodore wore his clothes, and Andrew texted sweet messages from work. Theodore learned Andrew’s favorite meals, and cooked them a little more than occasionally, and Andrew brought small gifts; silly sentimental things, cards and chocolate and flowers. Andrew also sang, poorly, choosing from any number of sappy love songs, while Theodore kissed his scar and made him love the fact that he’d survived that. These habits had become more apparent now that Andrew had moved in, and fortunately were all met with endearment, all except for Andrew’s singing, which Theodore only tolerated at best.  
  
“A cat? Why a cat?”  
  
“I’ve always wanted one.” Andrew said as he paused the movie. “I wasn’t allowed to have a pet when I lived at home, and I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to keep one. I’ve always loved cats though.”  
  
“I’m not sure the lease allows for pets.”  
  
“But if it does?” Andrew asked, looking up from the fraying hem and into Theodore’s eyes, eager and hopeful. Theodore carded his fingers through Andrew’s wild hair, noticing that it had gotten fairly long, and wondering if he was trying to skirt the hospital’s policy.  
  
“Well, that’s a bit of a step.” Theodore let the rest stay unspoken. A step meant that it was an Official Couple Thing™ like moving in together, which had only happened about a month prior. Getting a pet complicated things further by introducing the question about who would take it if the relationship didn’t last—not something for which Theodore wanted to think about answers. But things were good—better than good, and when he rested his chin on Andrew’s knees and looked at him, sunny and smiling, wearing a hooded sweatshirt over his scrubs, he felt surprisingly at ease.  
  
“Is that what you want for Christmas? If the lease allows for it,” Theodore added quickly, not sure if he remembered whether or not the apartment manager had said anything about pets when he moved in four years ago.  
  
“It’d be nice, don’t you think? We could get a kitten, maybe a tabby, and he could keep you company when I’m not around. Remind you to eat, and whatnot.”  
  
“You’re going to teach a cat to remind me to eat?” Theodore asked, looking as dubious as he sounded. “Wouldn’t some kind of timer serve the same function? And I’ve been eating more, thank you. I’ve put on twelve pounds since I left for Nevada.” Andrew slipped his hand under the sweater Theodore was wearing, putting it onto his slim stomach and poking around, pretending to look for the added weight. “Besides, I’m used to being alone. I don’t need a cat to keep me company.”  
  
“True,” Andrew said with a nod, extracting his hand from under the sweater and putting it behind his head as he stretched out, fingers laced, knees still draped over Theodore’s lap. “But maybe you should be a little less used to it. You don’t really…have a lot of friends.”  
  
Theodore picked up his sketchpad and pointed it towards Andrew. “I’m making invitations for a Christmas party I’m invited to—how can you say I don’t have friends?”  
  
“Zev and Sig are business associates, really, and I’m not sure you can consider Zev a friend. He wants to fuck you,” Andrew said distastefully, scoffing.  
  
“Come off of that.” Theodore rolled his eyes and pulled his pencil out of the note pad’s metal spiral binding. “You’re splitting hairs, and I met Zev the first year I was out here—he’s had plenty of time to make a move if that’s what he wanted.”  
  
“He could have just been waiting for you to seem less skittish—you nearly dropped off of the face of the earth the first time we had sex and you initiated that.” Theodore shot him a glare, cheeks burning. He couldn’t argue with that.  
  
“Yeah. Well. He’s a friend.”  
  
“You work for him.”  
  
“And Sig?” Theodore asked, beginning to bristle at the direction of the conversation, scribbling a swirling design on the unused edge of his paper.  
  
“Sig’s a real sweetheart,” Andrew said thoughtfully. “I guess it’s fair to call her a friend, although she has a lot more interest in my ass than I’m generally used to seeing from casual acquaintances.”  
  
“She just has good taste; you’ve got a pretty nice ass.” Theodore didn’t look up from his drawing to speak, and Andrew laughed, turning the television off completely.  
  
“You know, speaking of my ass…” Andrew began, and Theodore completely gave up on the design, closing the sketchpad and setting it on the coffee table, shifting to fully face Andrew.  
  
“Whatever you’re about to segue into is either going to be terrible or incredible, so you have my undivided attention,” said Theodore, humor in the rise of his brow and the twist of his mouth. Andrew sat up, placed the remote on top of Theodore’s book, and draped his arms fondly over his shoulders, leaning close to catch his lips, soft and unexpected, but still welcome as they slid in familiar patterns against his mouth.  
  
“It’s been a few months since we started sleeping together,” Andrew said when they parted, his smile a little crooked. “I know my timing is bullshit, but do you want to try being on top?” Theodore blinked at him, surprised, his eyes automatically dropping to survey Andrew’s bulk draped across his tiny frame. He took a moment to think about it, and couldn’t visualize himself in Andrew’s place, too used to his role, too fond of it to desire much else, but the speed in which his pulse was now thumping was interesting, and he shifted his thoughts away from crows, cats, and comrades to focus solely on the mix of trepidation and excitement in Andrew’s eyes.  
  
“Do you want me to?” He asked, and Andrew answered with his tongue in Theodore’s mouth and his hands up the back of his sweater, leaving him no doubt in what he wanted. Theodore licked his lips, tasting him when he pulled away, feeling it in his blood when Andrew’s nails trailed slow paths down his skin. “I’ve never really thought about it,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “I’ve always been on the bottom before.”  
  
“I like it both ways,” Andrew said, his smile easy and without judgment. “I like a lot of things. Really, I just like the idea of you and I doing pretty much anything together.” Andrew grinned, color starting to rise on his face.  
  
“Aren’t I a little…” Theodore trailed off, shrugging his shoulders instead of finishing the question. It was obvious enough.  
  
“Height’s not going to really matter when I’m lying down, is it? You’re big enough where it counts,” Andrew said, his unique sense of awkward charm making him sound both serious and amused.  
  
“We can give it a shot, but you’ll have to walk me through it.” Theodore closed his eyes when Andrew’s lips again met his, eager but brief as Andrew slid off of the couch, grabbing Theodore’s hand and giving him a tug into the direction of the hallway. “Right now?” Theodore’s brows were high, but he got to his feet and followed Andrew to the bedroom, his mind playing flashes of possible scenarios so vividly that by the time they reached the door his heart was racing. It was all forgotten now, decisions, bickering, even the question of logistics, as Andrew peeled off his hoodie and scrubs and backed onto the bed, pulling Theo down with him, on top of him, slipping one leg between Theodore’s thighs.  
  
Instantly, Theodore’s hair was in his eyes, and he briefly dug around in the nightstand drawer for an elastic so he could pull it back and see what he was doing. Andrew’s hands were on his ass, firmly pushing him down so their bodies were flush, Theodore’s enormous sweater bunching between them until he took it off. With fond glance, Theodore ducked down to kiss Andrew’s ear, drinking up the warmth of him, loving the fire coming off of him in the chilly room.  
  
“So how do I do this?” Theodore asked, his words murmured softly into Andrew’s neck, met with the throb of his pulse and bounce of his adam’s apple, so he asked them again, silently, just miming them into his skin with his lips and tongue, his mood completely shifting, desperately in love with him and telling him so without words.  
  
“This is a good start.” A shift, a sigh, and Theodore felt the unyielding stiffness of Andrew’s cock against his hip.  
  
“So eager,” Theodore whispered, and the shiver that flickered down Andrew’s body was decadent like dark chocolate, sweet and overwhelming. There was rush of blood that made his belly and cock burn, leaving him lightheaded, and he nudged Andrew’s head back with his nose to kiss the scar on his chin, always conflicted about that deep, ugly gouge. It made him possessive and protective, both thankful and furious, because how could someone have done that? Yet without it, he wouldn’t be Andrew.  
  
They moved against one another, finding their waves and riding them, sliding down the surface tension of their bodies and approaching well-known landmarks with a sense of unfettered adventure. There were no familiar roles to play for Theodore, so he made up his own lines, hands against sides, cheek against soft chest hair, and tongue meeting the tightened nub of Andrew’s nipple. He sought encouragement like an eager student, desperate for validation as his mouth climbed the ridges of Andrew’s ribcage and his hand slid under the tense muscle of his thigh, lifting, easing, and pushing it to give himself room to lower himself between Andrew’s legs.  
  
“I kinda like this,” Theodore said, hooking his knees under Andrew’s thighs and climbing up him again, fitting surprisingly well as he slid his hands behind Andrew’s head, kissing him slow and sweet. Andrew’s hands were on his ass again, shoving him forward, grinding against Theodore, his lips wet, his lids low on his eyes. “I see you do too,” he whispered with a smile, running his hands down Andrew’s sides, toying with his waistband, and sitting back on his heels to unbutton his jeans.      
  
There was a tangle of legs and laughter as they undressed, Theodore finding it necessary to shift completely to the side away from Andrew so that he could kick off his jeans, pulling his own down, and coming back to a cascade of clumsy kisses, Andrew too eager to avoid knocking their noses or shoving his cock into Theodore’s hip, huffing in frustration when Theodore pulled back, kissing his thigh, pushing his legs apart further and settling comfortably between them, his tongue hot on the base of his cock as it slowly traveled the length of it, Theodore pausing only as he shimmied out of his boxers.  
  
“Can you hand me the—” Theodore glanced up from between Andrew’s legs when Andrew nudged the plastic bottle into his waiting hand before he could finish the sentence. “Oh you  _want_  this, don’t you?” Theodore asked, feeling devious and powerful as he flicked his tongue quick and light across the head of Andrew’s cock, tasting familiar salt and feeling the twitch of his stomach under his fingertips. Andrew murmured something incoherent and nodded, tilting his hips and bending his legs at the knees, one foot on either side of Theodore.  
  
“Perfect,” Andrew said with a contented sigh as Theodore rubbed slippery fingers over his skin, and Theodore felt tension slowly leave him as he kissed his stomach, pushing the tip of one slim finger past the ring of muscle and sliding it deep.  
  
“Did you do this a lot in the past?” Theodore asked, nuzzling his stomach as he reached inward, slipping the finger as far back as it would go and then back again, slow and careful, watching the way Andrew reacted.  
  
“Sometimes, depends on who I was…mm.” When Theodore curled his finger forward, Andrew’s eyes closed and his head slid back as he found Theodore’s head with his hand and petted it with limp fingers.  
  
“Right there, huh?” Theodore asked, and when Andrew nodded he did it again, the sucking inhalation making Theo’s body tingle and thrum uncomfortably. Waiting was difficult with Andrew flushed, fingers flexing against his hair. “I can’t believe how much you make me want this,” Theodore said, leaning up to kiss him as he added a finger, concerned not so much with stretching him, but with continuing to rub against that spot that drove him crazy, wanting him profoundly when Andrew grabbed him to hold him into the kiss, feeling him starving for it.  
  
“Now you know how I feel,” Andrew said with a quiet chuckle. “You don’t have to do much more. I’m ready.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Theodore tried to sound more careful than dubious, more tender than excited, and failed on both counts. Andrew rocked against his fingers, finding his mouth again and covering it, sucking his tongue and playing fingertips across his neck, his nails too short to dig in and find purchase. “Okay,” Theodore stroked Andrew’s hair out of his face again, nuzzling his cheek, and carefully removing his fingers. “Maybe you should get on your stomach.”    
  
Andrew repositioned, propping himself up on his knees, resting forward onto his crossed arms, his fingertips digging into the side of a pillow when Theodore leaned over him and kissed his shoulder blade.  
  
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Theodore pressed his lips to Andrew’s spine, between his shifting shoulder blades, guiding his slick cock between the cleft of Andrew’s legs, pressing to the puckered skin, waiting for an answer. When it came, he pushed past the resistance, and the heat and pressure, and most of all the groan from Andrew slid up his spine like a shiver. He bent to kiss his back again. “Good?”

“Fuck yes.” Andrew groaned, shoving his face into the pillow as he reached back for Theodore’s leg, grazing him with his fingertips. “Keep going.” Theodore pushed himself in until his slim hipbones pressed against Andrew’s ass, huffing air through his nose and grabbing Andrew’s hand, still trying to hold onto his leg, and lacing their fingers, pushing it against the sheets. “So fucking good,” Andrew mumbled, still muffled by the pillow, and Theodore drew back carefully, and then rocked his hips against Andrew, pushing himself deeper, feeling Andrew’s fingers tighten and relax around his as the rest of his body did this same.  
  
He took it slow, as much for himself as for Andrew, overwhelmed by the sensation and the subtle reactions of Andrew’s body, stopping entirely when he tensed and his arms went rigid, stroking his back slowly until he relaxed again and loosened his grip on Theo’s hand. If the room was still chilly, Theodore couldn’t tell; Andrew was a furnace.  
  
“You okay?” Theodore murmured into the back of Andrew’s neck, unable to get much closer, wanting to kiss his cheek, or turn Andrew’s head to catch his lips, but hampered by the difference in their size. Instead, he contented himself with the sweat-damp skin on Andrew’s back, mouthing at it, whispering into it, tasting sweat and feeling the speed of his breath under his sensitive lips.  
  
“Harder, god—just so much harder.” Andrew shifted, bowing his back as he pushed his knees further apart, bracing himself. Theodore hesitated at first, sliding his hands down Andrew’s body to grip his hips, drawing back to give himself momentum with one good, hard thrust. When he found his rhythm, he clutched to it, closing his eyes to focus on the metronome tick that guided him. He slowed but didn’t pause when Andrew’s breath became erratic, giving him time to catch it before he sped up again, reaching underneath him to stroke his cock, loving that he could feel when it felt good for Andrew because of how he moved his body, how he tightened and twisted, gripping fistfuls of the pillow or the blanket.  
  
Though he found that pace, he couldn’t keep it, getting caught in a delicate balance of how hard and fast Andrew wanted it and the inevitability of his climax, creeping up on him even when he stopped and rested his weight against Andrew.  
  
“I can’t take much more,” Theodore said as he nudged Andrew’s shoulder with his nose, trying desperately to catch his breath. “And I want to kiss you,” he added, nearly pouting, rolling his hips hard as he tried to lean closer, nuzzling into Andrew’s damp hair.  
  
“Let me roll over,” Andrew said, groaning when Theodore drew back and left him empty, first resting his lower body down then turning onto his back. When he lifted his legs up, holding them under his knees to pull them to his chest, Theodore sunk into him again, leaning down to kiss him urgently, pushing Andrew’s legs further into his shoulders as he did. “You like it?” Andrew asked when Theodore moved from his mouth to kiss his cheek and jaw, releasing his legs so he could wrap his arms around him, his fingertips firm on his slim shoulders.  
  
“Feels…oh god. You’re…so…” Theodore said incoherently, his face pressed into Andrew’s shoulder as he began to pick up speed again, though he was less restrained, less measured, more lust and desperation in trying to get to that last little rise so he could fall over the edge. To give him that push, Andrew wrapped his legs around Theodore’s thighs, pulling him in as much as he could, making him keep his thrusts short, shallow, and fast.  
  
Theodore didn’t think, couldn’t think, and when it hit him he came inside of Andrew, his hips snapping a couple of times until the strength poured out of his body entirely, leaving him lightheaded and weak, a shiver starting at the base of his spine and racing up his spine. As Andrew stroked his back, all tender hands and light kisses on his ear, Theodore started to tremble, feeling loved and empty, yet full of him, exhausted and wrung out.  
  
“How was that, baby?” Andrew asked as he nuzzled Theodore’s ear, not expecting much of an answer from him, but taking the slight nod as a positive sign. Consideration for his own pleasure was long gone, and though his body ached, sore and sweet, feeling Theodore shivering and spent was more than enough for him.  
  
“I love when you call me that,” Theo said after a long pause, lifting his head out of Andrew’s shoulder to look down at him, Andrew’s smile looking downright beatific.  
  
“You do, huh?” Andrew asked, brushing damp strands of hair off of Theodore’s face. “I thought it was one of those things you just tolerated, like when I sing.”  
  
Theodore shook his head, sighing lightly as he snaked his hand between their bodies to grip his still stiff cock, closing it over the tip on the upstroke, sliding his tongue into Andrew’s mouth when Andrew kissed him, then gasped, not realizing how close he was until Theodore got him there. He dug his fingers into Theodore’s sides when he came, rocking into his hand, the pleasant ache from Theodore’s cock making it all the more intense.  
  
“You sure you’ve never done this before?” Andrew asked with an exhausted laugh, dropping his head against the pillow and closing his eyes.  
  
“That was the first time,” Theodore said, slowly moving off of Andrew to lie next to him, an arm around his waist, his breath coming slower but still deep and arrhythmic.  
  
“What did you think? Have you been missing out?”

Theodore groaned a little as he shifted, resting his head on Andrew’s shoulder. “I love it—I love you. I love that you wanted that from me and that you don’t care if I’m small or too…” He paused, licking his lips as he looked for the words. “Effeminate, or submissive, or any of those things.” Andrew rubbed his shoulder gently. “I just love that you could make me want to fuck you like that. I’ve never wanted that from anyone.”  
  
“I like how small you are. It makes it easier to sit with you in my lap,” Andrew said with a laugh, but when he nuzzled against Theodore’s head, smiling, his voice was serious. “You’re beautiful, and I’m glad you’re not wrapped up with worrying about masculinity or how people see you. I’ve dated guys like that; it gets tiring. Take away any feminine and submissive aspects—and I’m not saying I think you have many of either, mind you—and you’re not my Theodore anymore. I like you just the way you are, and I wouldn’t change a thing if you asked me to.” Andrew kissed the top of his sweaty head. “How about we shower, have a beer and a cigarette, and call it a night. Tomorrow morning I’ll take you out for breakfast.”  
  
“That sounds perfect,” Theodore said, not really meaning Andrew’s idea.  
  
When they were cleaned up and sitting in bed together, hair wet from a brief shower, a half-empty bottle of beer sitting on Theodore’s nightstand, and a stubbed out cigarette in an ashtray on Andrew’s, Theodore set down the book he was reading and glanced at Andrew, who was already half asleep.  
  
“You know,” he said, waiting for Andrew to turn and look at him. “I think that a cat might be nice.”  
  
“Remind me to ask you to fuck me more often if it’s going to make you so interested my ideas.” Andrew’s tone was teasing, and he put Theodore’s book to the side, pulling his reading glasses down off of his face to kiss him. “It’ll kind of be like starting our own little family, you know?”  
  
“Mm, it’s better than family, at least the kind of family you’ve had,” Theodore said, curling up in Andrew’s grip when he slipped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “Family sort of…implies that you’re stuck with them, like your father.” Theodore slipped his fingers into Andrew’s hand, lacing them together, holding his big hand and sighing contentedly with how perfectly small it made him feel. “We’re choosing this. We might have fallen in love, but we made a choice to act on it, like we’ll make a choice to adopt a kitten. You never had a choice with your family.”  
  
“Yeah, but I really want to get this family thing right at some point in time.”  
  
“We’ve got a lot of time to work on that.”  
  
“So we do. So, breakfast…then animal shelters?”  
  
“Maybe,” Theodore said, turning off his bedside lamp, the room dark but for a cool blue strip of moonlight from the window.  
  
That morning, Theodore was running behind, sluggish and tired, teasing Andrew that he’d sucked all the strength out of him. As he brushed his teeth, he asked Andrew to warm up the car, and Andrew went out to it, wearing a winter jacket to keep out the frigid morning air.  
  
There was a man standing outside of the apartment building, on the street, looking at a slip of paper in his hand, then back at the building. When he saw Andrew he waved him over, looking at his piece of paper again as though he were lost.  
  
“Can I help you with something?” Andrew asked, wanting to figure out what he needed quickly and be done with it, eager to go to breakfast, his stomach twisted into hungry knots.  
  
“Yeah, can you tell me if Theodore Murphy lives here?” he asked, and Andrew took the time to look him over, suddenly concerned. He was tall, though not as tall as Andrew, and had a fine-boned face with high cheekbones and a squarish jaw. He was blond, his hair fashionably short, and he had wide, dark eyes, as blue as sapphires.  
  
“Uh, sorry, but who exactly are you?” Andrew asked cautiously, suddenly wanting to tell him no and to go back inside without telling Theodore it occurred. Something about the guy made him feel uneasy.  
  
“Oh, sorry, I should have introduced myself first.” The man smiled; it was a smile like a used car salesman, rehearsed and disingenuous, but good enough to fool most people. He offered Andrew his hand to shake. “I’m Thomas, Theodore’s fiancé.”


	19. Chapter 19

It took a lot to leave Andrew Starka at a loss for words, but the appearance of Thomas, who had always seemed to be a mythical figure who existed only in the shadows of Theodore's past, had him speechless. For a moment he just stared at him, feeling his mind turn on him in a flood of hatred and fear, mired in an ocean of self-doubt. Seven years Theodore had spent with this man--what did the one he'd spent with Andrew matter compared to that?  
  
Andrew excused himself rather poorly by saying he had left the oven on, and returned to the house without answering Thomas’ question. Theodore was sitting on the couch, bent double to tie his shoes, and his smile disappeared when Andrew closed the door behind him, staring right through him.  
  
“Your ex is outside,” he said flatly, blinking as he focused his gaze on Theodore. “He introduced himself as your fiancé. You never told me...” Andrew stopped, able to remind himself of all the things he'd neglected to tell Theodore in the beginning, still in shock, but trying to hold himself steady.  
  
Theodore's mouth dropped and his eyes widened, his whole face crumbling into a mask of worry as he marched to the window and peered out of the blinds to see Thomas on the sidewalk. He backed away from the window, a hand over his mouth as he slumped against the coffee table. There was a cold in him that boiled up from his belly, making him nauseous as he sat, stuck in that moment of recognition, trying desperately to go back to five minutes before, when he was in the bathroom listening to Andrew hum contentedly in the hallway. Thomas had to go and ruin that too. He gritted his teeth before standing quickly and starting to pace, cussing under his breath.  
  
"I was never engaged to him!" Theodore shouted as he paced across the living room, frantic like a caged animal, one hand to his mouth as he gnawed on his fingernails. "The first thing he does when he gets here is lie, and what the fuck is he doing here? How does he know my address?"  
  
"Why would he introduce himself as your fiance then?" Andrew asked gently, the relief coming over him in waves, a conflicted knot of emotion spreading out like spilled water. To be relieved to see Theodore so hurt felt wrong, but he was anyway, feeling intensely selfish to see nothing but anger and distress on his face.  
  
"I have no idea. He never proposed to me, we never talked about getting married. I..." Theodore paused, raking back his hair as something like an apology came over his face as he looked at Andrew. "I-I would have said yes if he did, I won't deny that, but...that was years ago, and it's over, it’s been over for a long time. I don't understand why he's here."  
  
"Maybe you ought to ask him," Andrew said cautiously as he watched him from the couch, resisting the urge to light a cigarette though he wrapped his fingers around the pack in his pocket.  
  
"I don't want to talk to him!" Theodore pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a frustrated sigh."He was out of my life for four years, and he needed to fucking stay there!"  
  
Andrew stood then and put his arms around Theodore, all his anger and hurt forgotten. He pulled Theodore's hand away from his mouth so he couldn't chew off what was left of his ragged nails and soothed him like he was wounded, rubbing his back in slow circles as Theodore crumpled against his chest. "If you want me to tell him to leave, I will, but if he got your address online from your company or something, he knows you live here."  
  
"Fuck." Theodore sighed, sounding more defeated than angry. "I need you to come with me to talk to him."  
  
"I will. I'm not going to let him take--I'm not going to let him upset you like this." Andrew stroked Theodore's hair when he pressed his face into his chest, furrowing his brow as he felt Theodore’s shoulders shaking. “Hey,” he said softly, carefully taking Theodore's chin in his hand to tilt it upwards, “did he ever hurt you?”  
  
“No, no,” Theodore said as he extracted himself from Andrew’s grip, grabbing his coat off of the hook near the door and putting it on, looking small and frustrated. “It was good--it was great, I had a life, and friends, and he threw all of that away, and I am just livid that he has the balls to find me and stand outside of my apartment like he fucking belongs here! He lost that right when he cheated on me.” Theodore stood at the door for a second, his hand on the knob. "I just wanted to get breakfast," he said in a small voice.  
  
"We will. This is just a minor detour." Andrew opened the door for Theo and closed it after they stepped out onto the small porch, Theodore's breath hanging in the air like an incorporeal barrier between him and Thomas where he stood on the sidewalk, looking surprised to see the two of them come out of the house together. That look of confusion put steel in Theodore's spine as he walked down the sidewalk to meet him, looking up at him and trying to push down the memories of seven years worth of love and laughter and happiness like they were indigestion.  
  
"Theodore, it's been too long," Thomas said, and Andrew had to stuff his hands in his coat pockets to keep himself from punching him.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure. How's Maria?" Theodore's voice was flat and sarcastic, a tone Andrew had never heard from him before, one he suspected Thomas had never heard either for how taken aback he looked. Thomas seemed to lose the smallest fragment of his composure, and it took him a moment to get it back.  
  
"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her in years."  
  
"Is that what this is? She dumped your sorry ass, so you come halfway across the coast to find me? "  
  
"Theo," Thomas said with one of those car salesman smiles, though it slid off of his face when Theodore took a step backwards towards Andrew. "I just wanted to reconnect, I hadn't heard from you since, well..."  
  
"Since I left you for cheating on me," Theodore said slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. "And another thing, when I left you had never mentioned marriage, so where do you get off introducing yourself as my fiance?"  
  
"What was I supposed to say? That I was your estranged boyfriend?" He asked, making a helpless gesture. Andrew pulled the cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and slid the lighter that Theodore had given him out of the cellophane wrapper, holding a filter between his lips as he cupped his hands to light one.  
  
"No, no. You're not my "estranged" anything. You're nothing to me." There was venom on Theodore's tongue, and Thomas crinkled his brow at him, either genuinely confused or putting on a good act.  
  
"Nothing?" He asked, sounding hurt. "After seven years? After I helped you get your degree and get your business off the ground, I'm nothing?"  
  
"I think he made himself pretty clear," said Andrew, blowing a puff of smoke away from Theodore as he stepped up beside him, putting himself in between the two men.  
  
"And who are you, his bodyguard?" Thomas asked, his veneer slipping, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly when Andrew snorted with laughter.  
  
"No," said Theodore, "he's my boyfriend, and he's the best thing to happen to me since you decided sleeping with interns was more important than the man you said you loved. If you ever cared about me at all, you'll get the fuck out of my life and stay out of it. That is the best thing you can do for me right now, and I suggest you do it."  
  
"I made a mistake, if you would just let me explain--"  
  
"I don't need to hear it. I need you to leave, go back to Los Angeles, or wherever it is you live now, and let me have my life. You owe me that much."  
  
"I don't owe you anything," Thomas said sharply, glaring at Andrew as he smoked, largely staying out of the argument, but keeping himself very present, the scent of tobacco on the wind as impossible to ignore as the presence his body between the two angry men. "Can't we at least talk in private?"  
  
"I don't think that sounds like a great idea," Andrew said, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette, frowning at Thomas as he put it back between his lips. "You can say whatever you need to say in front of me."  
  
"I'm pretty sure Theodore doesn't need your protection," Thomas said, though he wouldn't look at Andrew.  
  
"No, I just think that if I let you take him somewhere private, I'll end up needing to dispose of a body after he rips your throat out with his bare hands. If anything, I'm protecting you."  
  
"Cute," Thomas said, pressing his lips together until they turned white. "So this is how it's going to be, huh? You won't even give me the time of day anymore?"  
  
"I wasted enough time on you." Theodore slipped his hand into Andrew's and turned away from Thomas. "I want you to leave, and if you don't I will not hesitate to call the police and report you for harassment. Go, and learn what it's like to live with the knowledge that someone you once loved doesn't want you anymore."  
  
Either persistent, or foolish, Thomas took a step forward and put his hand on Theodore's shoulder, trying to turn him around to talk to him, and Andrew, having reached the limit of his patience, shoved him when Theodore shrugged off his hand.  
  
"Back the fuck off," Andrew said, his tone low and heavy with warning. "I've had just about enough of you, and it's in your best interest if you leave."  
  
"So that's it?" Thomas asked, and Theodore turned to face him, meeting his gaze and holding it, letting it all run through him, every kiss, every night when Thomas would rub his back because he couldn't sleep, every walk through Los Angeles, holding Thomas' hand, every long night in bed, looking down at him while he held his hips, his hair sticking to his sweaty back, Thomas disheveled and smiling--he remembered them all. When he dropped his gaze, it wasn't because the memory was too intense or painful, it was that he knew it didn't matter anymore. The spark of life and love and belonging that came when Andrew inadvertently brushed against him was more than he could have ever wanted.  
  
"Yeah. That's it," he said, gentler than he'd been before, almost feeling sorry for him.  
  
"You've changed."  
  
"I know. It happens. People grow up. Maybe you ought to."  
  
Thomas shook his head, the disbelief on his face shadowed by something darker, and he turned, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked away, down to a car parked on the side of the road. Andrew put his arm around Theodore's shoulders to lead him back to the house, and just as he turned to close the door to the cold morning, he saw the tail lights flare red as the car took off.  
  
Inside the house, Theodore sat on the couch with his head in his hands, breathing slow and deep, his hands shaking lightly. Andrew stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray and emptied it into the trash before sitting next to Theodore.  
  
"Are you alright?" Andrew asked softly, putting his hand on Theodore's back when he nodded, though he didn't believe him in the least. "Do you want me to make coffee?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Theodore said quietly, muffled by his hands.  
  
"For what? It's not like you invited him here." Andrew took one of Theodore's hands and gently tugged it from his face. "Could have been worse, it could have been one of my exes." Andrew smiled, lopsided and tender, and he slid his hand over Theodore's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Then we might have ended at the hospital again, and I'm really trying to stay out of there on my days off. They might get the idea that I actually want to be there." Theodore smiled at him weakly, shaking his head.  
  
"It just brought a lot back. We...he and I..." Theodore pressed his lips together. "I didn't want to be reminded of that because you're right, I don't have a lot of friends. I didn't think before moving out here, I just wanted to get away. I could have moved back home, or with some of my friends in Los Angeles because I had plenty of them. I left a life back there." Theodore sighed, resting his head against the couch, looking blankly at the ceiling. "I should be furious at him, I should feel something...but I don't. I look back at that life, those years, and there's nothing there."  
  
Andrew blinked, not expecting that. "Nothing, huh?"  
  
"No. Once that initial anger passed...it's just all gone. I spent years hating him because I loved him and now...I just feel sorry for him."  
  
"It's okay if you still feel something."  
  
"I don't. I really don't." Theodore rolled his head to the side to look at Andrew, sort of tentative, his eyes darting away from his gaze, as shy as Andrew had ever seen him. "Thomas and I had something wonderful, but that was in the past, and all I want right now is a future with you."  
  
Andrew brushed his knuckles fondly across Theodore's cheek when he dropped his gaze. "Whatever you want from me is yours, you know that. My past, my future, everything, it's all yours--it always has been."  
  
Theodore caught his gaze again, then wrapped his arm around Andrew's neck, pulling him close, pressing his face into his neck, kissing it, his shoulders shaking.  
  
"Hey, don't cry," Andrew stroked his back slowly, pulling him into his lap and gathering him up. "It's over, and you don't need to waste your time stressing out about him."  
  
"For three years I wanted nothing more than for him to apologize and tell me to come home, and that it would be different, and I would have believed him because he was 'the one' you know?" Theodore whispered, his voice weak and trembling, his grip firm as Andrew tilted his head to kiss the top of his head. "I've never looked at him and just...felt nothing. It made those years hurt. I wasted so much time on him."     
  
"You couldn't have known that he'd cheat on you, and if you loved him, it wasn't wasted time," Andrew said quietly, combing his fingers carefully through his hair.  
  
"I just wish I had met you sooner," Theodore said softly, his lips against Andrew's collarbone as he murmured into his shirt.  
  
"You met me eventually."Andrew coaxed his chin up and brushed his thumb across his cheek, smiling. "We can't do anything about the past, and trust me, I've wanted to change a million things, but we're where we are now, and we ought to make the best of it." Theodore nodded slightly into Andrew's hand. "Are you going to be okay?"Andrew smiled when Theo nodded again. "Are you still interested in getting breakfast?"  
  
"Yeah, I am." When Andrew released Theodore, he put his arms around him and hugged tight, pulling him down, making him the right size to hold him without needing to stand on his toes or stretch himself out until his spine cracked.  
  
"I meant what I said," Andrew said softly into his cheek. "All yours. Everything. Always."  
  
"Good," Theodore murmured, brushing his fingertip over his scar. "That means I get to threaten your exes with bodily harm if they show up, right?"  
  
Andrew laughed and kissed him, resting his forehead against Theodore's and nodding. "You are a force to be reckoned with, coffee bean. Come on, let's go get something to eat."  
  
Though it was still frigid when they walked outside, a measure of that ugly frost had lifted, and by the time they finished breakfast, full and warm from good food and too much coffee, the world was all blues and golds, the sky clear, the sun bright and promising.   


	20. Chapter 20

Out of all the kittens at the shelter, Andrew liked the orange tabby the most. Later, he admitted that he’d fallen in love the minute he saw him across the room, but had waited to see if Theodore might take to any of the cats before saying anything. He gave up on waiting when, while they were sitting on the floor, coaxing a shy grey kitten to come closer so that they could pet her, that orange tabby charged across the room, pupils so dilated that his wide eyes were black. He tore up a tall cat tree to leap off of the edge and landed on Theodore’s shoulder, digging in his little claws for stability as he nuzzled into Theodore’s hair.After detaching him and cleaning the tiny puncture wounds in Theodore’s back, Andrew made it clear that he had already made his choice.

“He’s playful, so he won’t just sit around being lazy all day, and he’ll definitely keep you on your toes. You’re not likely to spend eight hours straight in front of your PC if you’re worried about this little guy climbing the drapes.”  
  
“I’m not sure you’re being the best advocate for this cat,” Theodore said as he watched the kitten crawl up Andrew’s leg and into his arms, rolling so that his white tummy was in the air, purring tremendously loud as Andrew tickled his belly. “He’s doing a much better job.” Theodore reached out to touch him and the kitten grabbed his hand with his paws, tugging it to his face and rubbing on it happily.   
  
“We’ll keep his nails clipped so he doesn’t try to climb anything, including you,” Andrew said, smiling down at the kitten as he nuzzled into Theodore’s hand. “Look how much he likes you. **”**

“If I keep taking home all the strays that like me, my apartment is going to get really crowded,” Theodore said in a soft, private tone, brushing a lock of hair behind the ear of his latest stray and smiling when Andrew leaned into his hand.  
  
Signing the adoption papers was strangely exciting, and when Andrew added his illegible doctor’s scrawl under Theodore’s neat print, Theodore was struck with the memory of sitting in the hospital, filling out a dozen admission forms, leaving the “in case of emergency” box empty after inadvertently writing Thomas’ name and scratching it out.   
  
“You know,” Theodore said as they walked out to the car, Andrew carrying their new kitten in a cardboard carrier shaped like a house. “You’re my ‘in case of emergency’ now.” Andrew cocked his head at him curiously, and then put his arm around him, kissing the side of his head.

“Is that good?” Andrew asked, and smiled when Theodore nodded.   
  
Once they started driving, Andrew opened the cardboard carrier just enough to get his hand into it so he could scritch the kitten’s head. “I think we ought to name him Pounce for that impressive move in the shelter.” There was a soft meow from inside the carrier, and Andrew shifted his hand so that he was tickling the kitten’s soft chin.   
  
“Pounce, huh? I guess that’s appropriate, though I’m not really sure I want to encourage him.”    
  
“I could have come up with something a lot worse you know, like Sir Pounce-a-Lot, or Mister Kittyface.” Andrew carefully pushed the kitten back into the carrier as he tried to scramble out. “You stay in there for now. We’re almost home.”

“Oh I  _knew_ that you named that panda! Katherine kept insisting that she picked out the name, but I knew better,” Theodore said with a fond shake of his head. Andrew just laughed. “I think that I can live with Pounce.”

“Did you hear that little guy? You have a name now!” Andrew said, his voice raising up to hit an octave suitable for cooing babytalk, and from inside the carrier there was a small meow that almost sounded like agreement.   
  
Pounce settled in well. Within moments of letting him out, he had torn around the entire apartment at top speed, sniffing everything before climbing into the bed and passing out there, his brand new cat bed lying untouched on the floor. It was a short nap though, and he spent the rest of the day exploring the apartment, hopping onto the wobbly kitchen table and ending up above the kitchen cabinets. He sat up there and meowed until Andrew got a step ladder out of storage to get him down.  
  
“He’s certainly special,” Theodore said as they laid in bed, the kitten snuggled between their pillows on his back, tiny paws twitching as he dreamed. “I guess he sort of suits us.” Theodore rubbed his belly gently with one finger, smiling when Pounce curled around his hand, purring vigorously.   
  
That morning Theodore woke overheated with Andrew wrapped around him and new, distinctively fuzzy heat plastered to the back of his neck. Sometime in the middle of the night Pounce had burrowed under his hair to sleep against him, his little body stretched out to its maximum length so that he could drape himself more efficiently over his neck. Within days, Andrew had dozens of pictures of this on his phone, and when Pounce started sleeping in the pocket of Theodore’s hoodie, he came home with a new digital camera to take more.   
  
December slipped by quickly. Andrew talked Theodore into getting a Christmas tree for the first time since moving to Portland, regretting the decision as soon as they got it home and Pounce discovered it. They exchanged the nice glass ornaments for unbreakable plastic ones, and every morning they found them in the oddest places. The one in the cupboard was particularly confusing, considering it was closed all night, but they chalked it up to act of cat. A few days later Theodore caught Pounce opening the cupboard and closing it behind him. He only stared, somehow not surprised that Andrew had picked out a cat that could do that.   
  
A week before Christmas, sandwiched between cards and catalogues, a letter arrived from Thomas. Andrew wanted to burn it, and Theodore was inclined to agree, but they opened it anyway, lighter on hand in case they changed their minds. Theodore opened it like it was poisonous, holding it away from his body and frowning at it, but after reading it, he passed it to Andrew with a soft sigh.

_“Theodore,_  
  
 _You were right, you know, and I’ve always fucking hated when you’re right. I’m a lawyer, I should be right more often. But it’s not about who’s right anymore. I should have called, or sent a letter. I probably just should have left you be. But I really did miss you, it wasn’t just me being an asshole again, it really wasn’t. But I realize how much I fucked up, and I’m ready to live with that now. I know you don’t want to hear anything from me, and honestly, I just wanted to get it off my chest. I’m being selfish again, but I don’t expect you to forgive me._  
  
 _I’m sending you some old photos. Not of us, but of you and our old friends. You should call them. They miss you._  
  
 _I’m sorry, Theodore. I hope, if nothing else, I didn’t fuck things up for you again. You deserve to be happy.”_

“What do you know, he  _can_  learn a lesson,” Andrew said as he folded up the letter and stuffed it back into the envelope, tossing it onto the coffee table. He put an arm around Theodore and kissed the top of his head, laughter bubbling out of him when Pounce tore into the room, grabbed the letter and dragged it under the tree to contentedly chew on it.

“We’ll always have our pasts,” Theodore said, and Andrew turned from where he was watching Pounce shred Thomas’ letter. His face was quietly confused, and Theodore rested his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes to the warmth of him, to the tightness of the arm around his waist, holding him there, holding him up when he needed it.   
  
“And our future?” Andrew asked, pressing his lips to Theodore’s hair as he spoke, the clatter of an ornament falling off of the tree making them both jump.   
  
“Just like this, I hope.”   
  
“What about big changes?” Andrew asked, and Theodore furrowed his brows at the tone of his voice. He stayed where he was, curled up on the couch with him, soaking him up.   
  
“What kind of changes?”    
  
“Like if I wanted to quit my job.” Theodore wriggled out of Andrew’s grip and looked at him, searching his face for some kind of explanation, not angry, not worried, just confused. Andrew closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before he continued. “I’m tired of the grunt work at the hospital, and I’m tired of feeling like I’m not living up to my potential. I wasn’t myself for such a long time; I was desperate and unstable and every single thing that I wanted from people was something fill me up because I didn’t think I could actually be whole.” He stopped and took a breath, glancing to watch Pounce batting the ornament across the wood floors. “I realize now that it’s not always cloudy outside, you know? There are all these sunny days that I’d been missing, and I can see them now.”  
  
Theodore licked his lips to speak, and Andrew shook his head, putting his finger to his lips to shush him. He closed his mouth and looked at Andrew, cocking his head in silent question, waiting for an answer.   
  
“It’s not just you, but you’re a big part of it.” He brushed his fingers across Theodore’s cheek on the way to his hair, combing through it gently. “I got to thinking that if you like me enough to hold onto me, then maybe it was time for me to think about who’s really been treating me badly. Honestly, I think that I just disliked myself so much that I didn’t think that someone could feel differently. You sure showed me.”  
  
“I didn’t do that much. All I did was fall in love with a big, goofy teddy bear,” Theodore said, and Andrew grinned.  
  
“I want to go back to school. Not UCLA, but here in Portland. I’ve been talking to Willa about it, and she’s been really encouraging. She says that I’ll be able to come back for my residency, and, you know, she really believes that I would make a good doctor.” Andrew laughed and raked his hair back, sitting back on the couch. “She said the only reason that she was so hard on me was because she thought I could do better. Can you believe that?”  
  
Theodore just nodded, thinking of Willa’s firm handshake and the brief conversation they’d had on Thanksgiving.   
  
“We don’t have to worry about money, I have more than enough savings to put myself through school and still pay my half of the rent.”   
  
“I don’t care about money, Andrew, you know that.” Theodore put his arms around Andrew’s neck and slid into his lap, pressing his lips firmly to his cheek. “I know you’re not satisfied as a nurse. If you want to go back to school, go for it. I’ll be here to support you.” Andrew’s face softened and he pulled Theodore in, leaning his head against Theo’s shoulder.   
  
“I knew you’d say that, but I needed to hear it anyway. You have no idea how much I love you.”  
  
“I think I do,” said Theodore, and he kissed Andrew softly, holding his cheek, wondering if he’d ever lose the compulsion to touch him. It was just as strong as it was the night they met when Theodore, halfway lost to concussion, found himself desperately wanting to reach up and touch his hair. He could clearly remember it glowing, backlit by the street lamp, and he buried both hands into Andrew’s hair now, wondering if he’d grow it out now that he wasn’t going to be beholden to the hospital’s policy. Maybe he’d cut it off; it didn’t matter, all that mattered was waking up on sunny mornings, wrapped up in a ball of blankets and limbs after spending another night together.  
  
“I’m going to be around a lot more, do you think you can handle me that much?” Andrew asked with a laugh, his amber eyes alive and excited as he bit his lower lip, looking younger, looking like a nervous child asking for a treat.   
  
“I don’t know about that,” Theodore said, teasingly, ruffling Andrew’s hair and kissing his temple. “I might have to kick you out sometimes.”   
  
There was a crash that made them both jump, and in the corner the Christmas tree was on the ground, ornaments bouncing spastically around the room. Pounce sat on the tree, looking as proud as he could be, and Andrew and Theodore shooed him off before spending the first of several nights putting the tree back up, grumbling at Pounce, but loving it, and scritching him when he climbed into bed with them at night, both thinking that they wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
Portland nights are familiar; they are warm and slow, peppered with soft kisses and a squirming kitten, half-empty bottles of good microbrews, and the lull of the dishwasher churning in the kitchen. They’re the silence of long hours of studying, and the feather-light brush of fingertips on a scalps. They’re the scent of favorite meals, tender embraces at the ends of days, and the stomach-tingling, heart-racing feeling of being entirely and utterly in love. They’re a giant bed that feels just the right size now that it’s full of two people and one sprawled out kitten, and they’re the solid wood kitchen table purchased on a whim at an estate sale. They’re gold and purple sunsets, watched from the patio, one arm around the other’s waist, just happy to be alive.   
  
Portland nights feel like home.


End file.
